


Shepard Traitor Soldier Spy

by TheXGrayXLady



Series: Shepard Traitor Soldier Spy and Related Works [1]
Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Drama, Earthborn (Mass Effect), Gen, Other, Paragade (Mass Effect), Science Fiction, Sole Survivor (Mass Effect)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2018-12-21 15:54:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 23
Words: 91,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11947581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheXGrayXLady/pseuds/TheXGrayXLady
Summary: She would let Cerberus collar her like a dog and by the time this was over, they’d forget she had teeth.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> IDK what I'm doing with this, I'm honestly just enjoying writing again and had little ideas for a bunch of oneshots during ME2 which I'm now throwing together into one hopefully cohesive fic. Also IDK if I like the title or not. It's the working title and I'm tolerating it.

The Illusive Man said she was free to leave any time she chose. She thought he had a funny definition of free. She was onboard a Cerberus vessel, with a Cerberus crew, and Cerberus body modifications, including a Cerberus tracking chip in her arm. She was sure she was free to leave the Normandy whenever she wanted to, but they’d never let her go.

She did as much research into Cerberus as she could following Nepheron. Even with her intelligence contacts and hacking ability, all her work turned up next to nothing. She didn’t know how far their resources or influence stretched.

She had no money that wasn’t tied up in a Cerberus account. Her Omni-Tool was of Cerberus make and design, ergo she had no way of knowing what kind of monitoring software they had loaded onto it. For all she knew, Lawson was lying about the control chip to lure her into a false sense of self-determination. As far as most of the galaxy was concerned, she was still dead.  Her former crew were either working for Cerberus, untraceable, or unable or unwilling to follow her on another suicide mission.

She could run, but she wouldn’t get far.

As much as she loathed to admit it, she admired him for this. The Illusive Man created a situation in which she ostensibly free so that it would look to the world that Commander Shepard was working with Cerberus of her own accord.  The Illusive Man got his perfectly designed weapon and her grudging loyalty, all he had to do was keep her isolated and dependent on Cerberus.

Then again, she was Mira Shepard. She was the Savior of the Citadel, the First Human Spectre, the Sole Survivor of Akuze, Alliance Intelligence’s top Infiltrator, and dozens of other titles she was sure she’d earned somewhere along the line. She was on a Cerberus vessel, full of Cerberus intelligence and personnel files. Perhaps something useful could come of this.

She was going to get out of this and she was going to leave Cerberus burning in her wake. She just had to trust that for all her intelligence, Lawson was just as much the Illusive Man's lackey as everybody else on this ship. So long as her thoughts were still her own, she could escape.

She would have to be careful. The Normandy was crawling with bugs and even without Chambers reading over her communications, she suspected it would be next to impossible to download or send any sort of data without being monitored. It was a good thing they invested countless resources into her with the express intent of asking her for the impossible. 

She would have to take this slowly, earn Cerberus’ trust. Lawson had all her old files, she’d never trust her if she turned around and played the good Cerberus soldier right out of the gate. So for a while, she’d make Cerberus fight like hell for everything they got out of her, then she’d slowly give in.

Take an order from Lawson, be polite to Chambers, leave the bugs and cameras in her quarters, all little things to make them think that she finally come around to Cerberus. She’d earn their trust, a little bit of privacy, then access to the treasure trove of information they had to offer.

She would let them collar her like a dog and by the time this was over, they’d forget she had teeth.


	2. You Thought I Would Forget

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Mira Shepard makes hiring decisions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IDK I think I wanted this to be something other than what it was. To be entirely honest, I'm still trying to get back into writing, so please be gentle with characterizations and such. 
> 
> Also, Mira Shepard is the sort of woman who first, puts a lot of stock in things like names and titles, both in her own mind and how she interacts with others, and second, holds petty grudges like nobody's business.

She wanted to pause in the doorway, take in the changes that Lawson made to her office. She would find time to evaluate the differences later. On the way to Citadel, she’d drag every single floor plan for this ship from Cerberus’ databanks and she would learn every inch of it so well she could navigate it blind.

For the time being, she had things to discuss with her supposed second in command.

She took a seat at Lawson’s desk and set down her incorrectly color-coded folders. She leaned back in her chair and Lawson continued typing. She could wait. She was ceding enough power to Lawson by initiating this meeting, especially if she wasn’t likely to get her way in the following negotiations.

“Can I help you with anything Shepard?” she asked, not looking away from her monitor.

“Please, it’s Commander,” she replied. “Thank you by the way for informing me as to my posthumous promotion to Staff Commander.”

“This isn’t the Alliance and it wasn’t relevant to the mission,” Lawson replied.

“No, but it does affect my back pay. However, I would like to speak with you about matters which are slightly more relevant than my finances,” she said, taking the first file off the stack, thumbing the blue tab a little harder than she meant to. Personnel files were supposed to be yellow. It was a warm, inviting color. Blue was for expense reports, it was calming, logical, certainly less personable than yellow.

“Firstly, while Flight Lieutenant Moreau is an extensively qualified pilot and one of the few capable of flying a ship such as this one,” she wouldn’t grace it with the name Cerberus deigned to give it, “he also has an equally extensive history of insubordination and refusing to follow orders, including, but not limited to, numerous complaints to HR from fellow service personnel, hijacking the SSV Normandy SR-1 prior to shakedown, utilization of Alliance servers to download pornography, and failure to follow commands, leading to the death of a commanding officer, all of which are detailed in this file.”

“Where are you going with this Commander?” There was just enough condescension in the use of her title to almost make her regret insisting upon it. Still, she would take what she could get.

“It would be to the benefit of everyone involved for the Lieutenant to be removed from service onboard this vessel. While he does have his not inconsiderable merits, it would be preferable to have a pilot who when given an order, can be trusted to follow it,” she said.

“We hired only the best for your mission and with all due respect Commander, you’ve been gone…”

“Dead.” Her voice was still calm and level, like death was a traffic jam rather than trying to walk herself through suit repair with a dislocated arm. “I wasn’t gone. I was dead,” she said, opening her first file and sliding it towards Lawson. “On account of Lieutenant Moreau’s faulty judgement. I want a pilot I can trust.”

“Let me finish,” Lawson said, still typing away with her perfectly manicured hands. “You’ve been either dead or in a medically induced coma for two years. You know next to nothing about the world now. So when I tell you that he’s the best man for the job, you should listen.”

“Doc…I’m sorry, is it actually Doctor?” she said, leaning just slightly forwards. There was a familiar stillness just under her ribcage. Just like when she was chasing Saren or when she still worked for Alliance Intelligence.

“Are you doubting _my_ qualifications now?” Lawson said, looking away from her report for the first time since Shepard came into the room.

She studied Lawson’s face. She thought that Lawson was intelligent and worked for a shadow group for long enough that she would know obvious bait for what it was. Yet there was no trace of deception in her soft features as she took it. It certainly wouldn’t hurt to keep needling the point. 

“I don’t like using titles that haven’t been earned.” There was a flash of anger in Lawson’s eyes at the word earned. Shepard almost smiled as she made a note of that. If she wanted to destabilize Cerberus, or at least the Lazarus Cell, she would have to start with Lawson.

“I assure you Commander, my qualifications are in order. If you would like, my entire educational background is in my file.” A file she would likely never be able to find given what kind of chaos Chambers had wrought upon her paperwork.

“ _Doctor_ Lawson, the Illusive Man made me the commanding officer of this vessel, correct?”

“As of this morning, you are in charge of the Normandy.”

“Then why are you making decisions regarding personnel?”

“Commander, you agreed to work for Cerberus.” She wanted desperately to laugh in Lawson’s face, but she was clinging to the last vestiges of professionalism. “You need to put your feelings aside for the sake of the mission.”

She took a moment to stare at the window, make it look like she was mulling it over. From where she was sitting, she couldn’t see the reflection of Lawson’s monitor. She briefly considered getting up and pacing to get a better look, but it would be too obvious.

She sighed and shook her head. She expected Lawson would say as much and as much as she didn’t like going into a fight she knew she couldn’t win, for now it was a necessity.  If she wanted to get out of here, she needed to make this look good. They would be more suspicious if she wasn’t testing what she could get away with.

As distasteful as this temper tantrum was, she was getting something out of it. After this, she could go back to being the consummate professional she always was.

“Failing the removal of Lieutenant Moreau, I would settle for the removal of Chambers.” She wouldn’t even dignify that woman with her title. At least Lieutenant Moreau had her respect, if not her trust.

“Shepard, I don’t have time to play these kinds of games. _Yeoman_ Chambers is a respected professional…”

“A commanding officer cannot function without order. This,” she gestured to the blue file tab, “is not order. You said that everything would be as it was on the Normandy. She has arranged the hard copies of my files in an irrational manner – first of all, blue is for expense reports, not personnel files, and she arranged them alphabetically…”

“You want me to remove Yeoman Chambers because she arranged your files alphabetically?”

“My filing system from the Normandy was not complicated. They were arranged first by department, _then_ alphabetically, then by date, by priority, and last, again alphabetically. I fail to see how she’s a professional if, given all the information Cerberus had on myself and the Normandy, she can’t figure out how I prefer my files arranged.”

“You want me to remove a highly qualified Cerberus officer because you don’t like the way she organizes your paperwork.” Miranda’s jaw hung open a moment and she stared at Shepard in what could only be described as aggravated disbelief.

“I don’t want you to remove her. I want to remove her myself,” she said, pulling out the yellow-tabbed folder. “I’ve reviewed what I’m allowed to about terminating a Cerberus employee. I have all the necessary paperwork right here.”

“You’ve known her for two hours and you wasted your time trying to get her fired rather than preparing for landing on the Citadel.” She clenched her jaw, only slightly, but just enough that Mira noticed.

“With all due respect, I’ve never taken a single psych course and I could do more nuanced psych-evals than she does and she thinks I can’t check my own email.” She stared directly into Lawson’s biotic blue eyes. Lawson was losing the fight to keep her annoyance off her face.

She tilted her head slightly to the left and reclined in the soft leather chair. Lawson blinked first. 

“I’ll tell her to stay out of your paperwork and I’ll see what I can do about the e-mails, but she stays on the ship.” It was a better deal than she was hoping to get.

“So long as she stays out of my paperwork,” she agreed.

“Is there anything else you need Commander? I’m very busy and should get back to my work,” she said, rolling her eyes and turning back to her monitor.

“There is one more thing,” she said, getting up from her chair. “Do you know where you can find expense report forms?”

“I’ve told you, you don’t need to file any…”

“No,” she said, reaching into her pocket and gathering the broken metal and plastic discs into her hand. “But if you intend to keep monitoring my quarters, _you_ will.” She dropped the bugs onto Lawson’s desk and left without another word.

_**X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X** _

 “Lieutenant Moreau, onboard the Normandy you had to send all my reports to Alliance HQ,” she said, settling into the co-pilot chair. Her tone was neutral, almost pleasant.

“You’d think you’d start with something a little more like, “Hi Joker. Guess who’s back from the dead?” You always did like to keep us gue…” He turned his chair to look at her and when he saw that she wasn’t laughing, he trailed off.

“You saw what they did on Edolus.” She leaned back and folded her hands on her lap. “You read all about what they did to Admiral Kohoku on Binthu. You knew all about the other facilities. They made their own husks and Thorian creepers. You sent every bit of data I decrypted from Nepheron to the Alliance. You saw what Toombs was like after Ontarom. You’ve seen my files, you know about Akuze. You’re still working for them.”

He didn’t respond. She didn’t add anything. Instead, she crossed her legs and turned to look out the bow window. If not for the gnawing anxiety in her stomach, she would have loved the view. Two years ago, she would have loved to see starfields as far as the eye could see. Now she had to remind herself that she did in fact have plenty of air.

Still, she pushed her nerves down. There were cameras all over the bridge. In addition to their aesthetic appeal, the windows were likely another control measure. They knew how she died; by exposing her to constant views of space, it would either stop affecting her entirely, or it would keep her too unsettled to notice attempts at manipulation. Regardless, she couldn’t let Cerberus see her discomfort.

She let the silence between them grow. She could ride it out longer than he could.

“What was I supposed to do Shep…”

“Commander.” In his reflection on the window, there was a brief flash of hurt and he went quiet again, staring almost blankly at the control panel. 

“After the Normandy went down, I had to face all these boards and commissions and inquiries and I…The Alliance grounded me. They said that I could appeal, but that just means that if I’m really good and ask really nicely, they can have their fancy admiralty lawyers tell me that I’m still in limbo until further notice,” he said.

If there was one thing she always liked about him, it was that he was not good at keeping things to himself.

“Things got rough for a while, then Miranda found me and she said she needed a pilot. She said she was going to bring you back, that they were rebuilding the Normandy…” They let the Alliance throw him away, then promised him everything he could ever want. She knew from experience that nobody could resist that.

“Thank you Lieutenant. That’s all I needed,” she said as she started to get up out of her chair. 

“Commander, I just want you to know that I wouldn’t have come on this mission if it wasn’t for you.”

She stopped. She shouldn’t have, she still had to check in with Taylor, Engineering, Medical, and she still had to fix the mess that was her desk, but he was the second familiar face she’d seen since coming to, and the only one that was still on the ship. Regardless of any resentment she had towards him, they were on this mission together and she didn’t have the time or the authority to waste being angry. Besides, she could compartmentalize.

So she sat back down and watched the stars go by. She told herself that it was because she could get more information about the ship from asking someone who worked on it than from her files.

She focused on her heartbeat and breathing. They were both quicker and shallower than she would have liked. For as long as she could remember, a healthy fear of death kept her going, but she would be damned if she let it show now.

She forced herself to slow her breathing and focused on what she needed to do. She needed to figure out where the Cerberus firewalls ended, know exactly what kind of information she could get about Cerberus without arousing Lawson’s suspicion. She needed to find the weak points, how to break into and out of the databanks without anybody knowing. Then she would need to find a way to get the information off the ship.

The more she thought about her mission, the calmer she became and eventually, she and Joker came to a pleasant silence. This time, it was her turn to break the quiet.

“How are things onboard?” she asked. For the first time, she turned to face him.

“To be honest, it’s great,” he said. “The new ship’s got twice the mass, but it still handles like a dream, the VI won’t let me test it though, and I mean, that’s what a shakedown run is for! And there’s leather chairs, you finally got your new coffee maker…”

“I’ll give Cerberus the coffee maker,” she admitted. She’d downed a triplo of espresso to steady herself before her meeting with Lawson. It was a far cry from the always slightly metallic tasting coffee of the Normandy.

“There’s some downsides, we can’t really leave the Terminus systems because I’m pretty sure most of council space has, “Kill or arrest on sight,” orders or something, the VI’s a pain in the ass, like I can’t fly without it’s help…”

“Like Chambers and my paperwork…”

“…and I am looking forwards to _that_ inevitable catfight like it was Space Christmas.” His shit-eating grin faltered as he realized that he’d likely overstepped his bounds, but rather than reprimand him like she very much wanted to and would likely have done on the Normandy, she instead laughed. “You’re forward to Space Christmas too?”

“The personnel files were blue.” The only reason she was still laughing was that if she didn’t laugh at the damage, she’d have to cry. She pinched the bridge of her nose and took a deep breath to get control of herself.

“Tell me more about the VI,” she said. She hadn’t had a chance yet to talk to it, but she would like to know everything she could going into that conversation.

“It’s a pain in the ass,” he insisted. “Like anybody wants to fly with big brother looking over their shoulder. It keeps telling me things I already know, like I don’t know how to fly the Normandy. And it’s always listen…”

“I am still listening Lieutenant Moreau,” a robotic voice said. She tilted her head to the side and studied the little blue sphere on the other side of the pilot’s seat. “As I’ve explained, I monitor the ship for defensive purposes and to send regular reports on the crew’s performance to the Illusive Man.”

“Yeah I know EDI,” he said. “I can’t take a piss without you knowing about it. Include that in your reports.”

“Your name is EDI?” she said, staring intently at the light as it blinked.   

“That is correct Commander. It is good to finally meet you,” it replied.

“Likewise,” she said. She had complaints about the monitoring, but it went against common sense to antagonize the ship’s VI. “EDI, what is your role on this ship?”

“Easy, it’s supposed to second gue…”

“I maintain the Normandy’s electronic defense array and monitor crew activities in order to compile reports for the Illusive Man.”

“If I had questions about your functions and Cerberus’ operations, would I be able to ask you?”

“I will answer to the best of my ability,” it said. “However, due to blocks I may be unable to respond to your queries.” Cerberus would want as much information about their operations to be unavailable to her as possible. She would have to interrogate the ship in order to get what she needed.

“Thank you EDI. I’ll speak with you later,” she said. The blue sphere continued to hover in place.

“See? I told you. Pain. In. the. Ass.” Joker said, glancing back over to the navigation screen and typing a command into the keyboard. “Aside from that, things are great. They’re focused on saving people Commander, more than the Council or the Alliance ever was.”

More than she ever was. If she wasn’t trapped, there was no chance she would even consider going on this kind of suicide mission. She lived her life with the simple goal of doing whatever she could to avoid dying. She saved the Galaxy from Saren, Sovereign, and the Geth because, quite frankly, the odds of dying in a full scale invasion were greater than dying by heading it off before it got started.

Human colonies were disappearing, but if the Collectors hadn’t killed her, she would likely have said that it didn’t affect her and, ergo, it wasn’t her problem. Unless she was ordered to, she would have ignored the death sentence that was investigating the Collectors. But then again, they had killed her and Cerberus took advantage of that in order to drag her kicking and screaming into their midst.

She failed to see how the Illusive Man's motives in chasing after the Collectors could only be to save humanity if her own motives were to save her own ass. 

“I don’t know Commander, maybe Cerberus isn’t that bad,” he said. Not for the first time, she considered how much she needed to check in with the other departments. She could come back to check the VI later. “Maybe you should give them a chance.” Her route was inefficient, a lot of back and forth across the ship, but it was more time sensitive that she check in with Taylor than the VI.

“I should go,” she said, standing and starting towards the armory. Then she stopped again and added. “Joker, for what it’s worth, it’s good to see you flying again.”


	3. Pleased to Meet You, Hope You Guess My Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It would be just like Space Christmas. She wasn’t going to let some asshole with a badge ruin Space Christmas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. I was really tired when I originally posted this. This is so much longer and a lot less fun than I meant for it to be also Mira doesn't really have as good a relationship with Anderson as in canon and loves only paperwork and coffee more than talking her way out of trouble. I'm really happy people are enjoying what I've dubbed Grumpy Paperwork Shepard and I hope that people continue to enjoy Grumpy Paperwork Shepard.

An all-encompassing peace settled over her body as she heard the words, “Two weeks’ worth of paperwork.” She hadn’t realized she was less than twenty-four hours out of the grave and already carrying such tension in her shoulders and neck until it evaporated like dew on a warm summer morning. Two weeks’ worth of paperwork, all to prove she wasn’t dead. In that moment, there was no sweeter sound than the repugnant C-Sec officer’s voice.

With her likeness all over the Citadel, her plan to dust off one of her old aliases and lie her ass off to avoid the DNA scanners was just short of dead on arrival, but she could make it work. Security was tighter than she remembered, but if she was an infiltrator. She was trained for this. Yet just as she was about to say, “Yeah, I know I look like Commander Shepard, but it’s just a really unfortunate resemblance,” and lay on the charm, a voice called to her from one of the advertisements and dashed all hope of getting onto the Citadel unnoticed.

It was too bad really, she hadn’t been Grace O’Malley in a while.

But Kisumi gave her an excuse to send Lawson right back to the ship, so it just about balanced out.

With the attention of the C-Sec officers now on her for talking to an ad, she could retreat to the ship and come up with another plan for how to get onto the Citadel, which would take time, or she could just walk right in the front door and claim that the DNA scanner was wrong. It worked on Noveria, even though she doubted Parasini believed that she had no idea who Mary Read was or why the scanner said she was her.

If she could fool Noveria security, she thought she could talk her way through C-Sec. Unfortunately, she wound up talking to an asshole with a persecution complex and had seen just enough of the super patriotic pro-human vids to not be fooled by her claim that she wasn’t Commander Shepard.

“But you know, I can pull a few strings and get this all sorted out,” he said. She didn’t realize how bad that knot in her back was until it came back.

The last thing she wanted to do was cut corners on something so important. If she let him pull strings to get her life back, it would likely come back to bite her later. Probably as tax fraud charges. If she was going to officially come back to life, she was going to get her weeks of paperwork and red tape. If not, it was to her benefit to stay dead.

It was to the benefit of this suicide mission for Commander Shepard to officially stay dead. If she survived, _then_ she could enjoy relaxing by untangling the knotted mess of red tape her resurrection would be. It would be just like Space Christmas. She wasn’t going to let some asshole with a badge ruin Space Christmas.

“No, there’s no need,” she said, leaning forwards on his desk. She glanced around, making sure nobody was listening before whispering, “I’m so sorry about this. I thought the Council had this sorted out, but I’ve never come in through this gate before. You know how bureaucrats are. They don’t give half a damn about the people they send to do their dirty work.”

“They tell you to do your job, then they keep getting in your way,” he replied, nodding in what she was sure he thought was a conspiratorial manner. “Then they get mad at you for doing your job _right_.”

She reminded herself that she needed this vile little man. As much as she wanted to sit him down and lecture at him that beatings were one of the least efficient and effective ways to obtain accurate and reliable information from a source, as well as a great way to get a conviction thrown out, she needed him to think that she was on his side.

At least for now. Later, she could put in a call to Chelick and tell him that a friend of Jenna’s thought that it would be best that he make a surprise visit to the Zakera Ward during an interrogation.

“They make you play dead so that you can go on a covert mission, then they forget to change your prints in half the DNA scanners,” she said, rolling her eyes. “This is just like them. I don’t have time to go to another gate.” She looked around again, made sure there was nobody listening, and then said, “Hypothetically speaking, if I needed to stay dead, and if in this hypothetical situation the Council would authorize me to reward the person who ensured my cover isn’t blown, would you be the man for that?”

“What sort of reward are we talking about?” he said.

“Hypothetically speaking, my bosses would pay deeply to keep this sort of screw up under wraps,” she said, pulling up a credit amount on her omni-tool. Months ago, twenty-five hundred credits would have been little more than a drop in the bucket for her.  Now, a pit she thought she’d forgotten formed in her stomach at the thought of her meager finances.

“Then I’ll be sure to get this fixed right away,” he said. She nodded and transferred the funds to him. “It’s a pleasure having you on the Citadel Ms…”

“Grace O’Malley.”

X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X

She still wasn’t sure why the Council put so much stock in her choice for the Human Councilor, but she was grateful they had. There were moments where she thought she should have backed Udina, he was politically savvy and had worked with the council before whereas Anderson wouldn’t see a knife in his back until it was being pulled out. Still, he was a good man.

He was her first Commanding Officer who saw all the little idiosyncrasies in her behavior and didn’t think to blame Akuze for messing up a previously perfectly fine, if oddly unaccomplished, N7 marine.  He was the first one to look into her further and see all the redacted files prior to Akuze. Then he kept digging and he saw that Admiral Essex oversaw her ROTC and N7 training and he knew her for the asset she truly was.

In the two years she’d served as his XO, he’d proven himself a capable leader and more importantly, as much as he tried to steer her towards more conventional methods, he knew when to step back and let her work. He always trusted she would have the paperwork to back up any of her questionable actions. She repaid his trust by not once letting on how much she wanted to go back and how little she wanted to be on active duty.  

Still, no matter what she did, he still saw her Alliance Intelligence operative who was thrown away on account of a media circus and just wanted to be a real marine, but didn’t know how. Like someone who needed to be taken under his wing and made to feel as though she had worth again. 

As much as she told reporters that she backed Anderson because of his military background and his willingness to cooperate with the other council races, she knew that it was because he saw what he thought was the best in her and the blind spot that created.  

Sure, she was a ghost traveling around the Citadel under one of her old aliases, but it was Anderson. He wanted to speak with her. He trusted her. He would do whatever he could to help her. He always did. It wasn’t as if she needed much.

She just needed a meeting with him alone. No Cerberus personnel or Cerberus monitoring devices, just a few minutes to plead her case. She couldn’t escape Cerberus, not yet anyway. Her odds for long term survival went up dramatically the weaker Cerberus became. The most reliable way to weaken them was to drive them out of the safety of the shadows, and for that, she needed information.

She would need access to council databases, and if she couldn’t get that from him then she could get in on her own, it would just take a little time. She would need money that wasn’t going to have to pass through Lawson. She would need surveillance equipment and code breakers. She would need to set up dead drop points around the Terminus systems. It would be far easier to smuggle Cerberus intel out as small packages, some experimental data here, the names of some operatives there, maybe the locations of a few bases.

If she talked her way onto the Citadel, she could talk Anderson into getting her back into the Council’s good graces.

She convinced Jacob to let her go, she had the tracking chip, it wasn’t as if Cerberus couldn’t find her again, she just wanted a few minutes with her old commanding officer.  She changed out of her armor and left Jacob and Kisumi in the embassy lobby.

“Excuse me,” she said, walking up to the secretary’s desk, her voice becoming higher and a little sweeter. “Do you know if Councilor Anderson is in his office?”

The man looked up from his screen and just about jumped back, the color draining from his face like he was looking at a ghost. “The Councilor is in a meeting now, should I get him for you…”

“Oh,” she said, folding her hands. “I’m not really…this is so awkward. I’m not a zombie, I’m Rachel Wall.” There was not a hint of recognition in his face. “The _actress?_ ” There was still no recognition, but he furrowed his brows, as if trying to figure out if he should know her. “I play Commander Shepard in the recruitment ads?”

“Ah.” The relief in his voice was almost palpable. She wanted to smile, but she had to stay in character. “I knew I knew you from…you look just like her.”

“I know,” she said.  “And you know? They still wouldn’t even let me screen test for that stupid Citadel movie! I just saw the trailer on the way here and that actress looks nothing like the Commander! But you know, I’m not jealous …”

“You’re not in his appointment book,” he said.

“This is about the new ad campaign, I just wanted to check with him to make sure it was okay,” she said, rocking back on her heels and rubbing her neck. “Keep this between you and me? I like having the pay check and everything, but I think all these ads are really tacky. I mean, she’s dead. It feels, I don’t know, disrespectful to keep using her for military recruitment. So I just wanted to go over the new scripts with the Councilor because he used to be her CO and I wanted to make sure they were tasteful.”

“He’s in meetings for the rest of the day,” he replied. “But he likes to end early so maybe if you can wait you can catch him in between. If I tell him you’re waiting to speak with…”

“I don’t want to be a bother, I’ll just wait outside his office,” she said. “If you could just point me in the right direction…”

“Down the hall on your right,” he said. “Third door on your left.”

“Thank you,” she said, turning and heading towards the office.

She looked around, refamiliarized herself with the layout of the embassy. The cameras were still where they remembered them, but they were a new model. The blind spots were smaller, more difficult to avoid, but she managed.

She knocked on the door, there was no response.  She didn’t think he’d appreciate her bypassing his locks, but she liked the idea of being stuck in a hallway for who knows how long when C-Sec found out that they had Cerberus operatives on the Citadel even less. Besides, she wasn’t sure when she was going to get another chance to test her skills against what was supposedly the best security the Citadel had to offer.

It turned out that the best the Citadel had to offer was nothing compared to removing the monitoring software from her omni-tool.  

She locked the door behind her and looked around. He hadn’t changed much, most of Udina’s décor was still scattered around the room. His desk was just as much a mess here as it was on the Athens or the Normandy and she had to look away in order to resist the urge to put it back in order.

There was a computer terminal in the corner, if she had time she thought she could look through his files, pick up whatever intel she could if he was unwilling to provide it for her. Maybe she could find out what happened to the rest of the crew as she didn’t trust either Joker or Chakwas enough to ask.

For now though, she appreciated the sheer silence of the empty office while she waited for Anderson. Her new ship ran near silent, but on any ship there was noise and this ship’s noise made her uneasy. There was the constant typing of Cerberus officers, the low hum of the engines, the crew’s chatter, the faint electric buzz of the damn fish tank, all of it a constant droning reminder of her captivity.

She walked over to the balcony and leaned on the railing. There was a thirty foot drop down to the floor below. She thought the cybernetic implants would save her should she have to jump.

The sound of the air circulating through the trees below was almost enough to set her anxieties at ease. She watched the people below milling about the Presidium without a care in the galaxy. She could almost pretend that no time had passed, that she was just here to give Anderson an update on her activities.

For the first time since waking up, she was alone. Even the little reprieve from Cerberus was enough to calm her racing heart and almost soothe her nagging paranoia. She was alone in the room without even her side arm, her back turned to the door, and no way to get back up in time if C-Sec came for her, yet she was perfectly calm.

She could breathe. She could breathe deep, real breaths for the first time since the Normandy went down over Alchera.

And she laughed. It was a quick, bitter, barking thing, but she laughed nonetheless. For the first time since waking up, she was alone and she was _choosing_ to walk directly into what was most likely a trap.

No matter her feelings on working for Cerberus, she _was_ working for them now. She could be arrested for treason by either C-Sec, the Alliance, and she was dumb enough to walk right into their backyard on the chance she could convince Anderson to offer assistance. No matter how much they’d invested in her, she didn’t think Cerberus would bail her out if she was arrested.

It would be worse if they did. If she managed to escape Cerberus later on, the last thing she wanted if she had to defend herself from terrorism, treason, and desertion charges was to have to a terrorist group break her out of prison.

Then she heard the footsteps and the door opened.

“Shepard, you have a lot to answer for.”  

“It’s a pleasure to see you again too sir,” she said, turning around and stepping off the railing. There was more gray in his hair since she last saw him, stronger wrinkles in his brow and frown lines around his eyes. 

“Don’t you, “sir,” me Shepard,” he said. She tilted her head and almost took a step back. She’d only heard him use that tone with enemy combatants. “After what I’ve heard, you should be hauled in front of the Admiralty Board and court marshalled.”

She tilted her head the other way. She hadn’t expected this. She’d expected Anderson to at least be relieved that rumors of her survival had been true. But then, she didn’t know what Cerberus had done over the last two years to drag her name through the mud. As much as she wanted to argue that she’d been either dead or in a coma until earlier that day, it was more important she know exactly what Cerberus had spread about her.

“If this is about the events on Freedom’s Progress, I assure you, I had nothing to do with that. I only arrived on the scene after the fact,” she said, typing a command into her omni-tool. “If you like, I can provide thorough documentation of…” Miranda told her not to bother with reports. She did it anyway. Writing the reports kept her calm, gave her a sense of normalcy onboard that damn ship.

“Screw your documentation,” he said, advancing towards her. Her legs coiled in preparation to jump the railing. “You let the whole galaxy think you were dead, then we get intel you’re working for Cerberus! I can’t believe I’m saying this, but we were all hoping you were dead.”

“Oh I was,” she said. “I can remember getting spaced like it was yesterday.”

“And Cerberus brought you back,” he replied. His tone indicated a distinct lack of belief. “Shepard, do you have any idea what kind of hell you’ve put your crew through with this stunt? You were on the coms when you went down for god’s sake! Did Cerberus ask you to make it that believable or did you come up with that your…”

She gripped the railing, took a moment to center herself. She couldn’t afford to think about that now. She couldn’t afford to think about it then, when the only thing going through her mind was, “ _I will not die here._ ” When she was walking herself through emergency suit repair, but couldn’t secure the airline with only one arm.  She couldn’t think about Kaidan shouting for the crew to shut down coms, then all but two going dark.

“Sir,” she said, managing to keep her voice level. “You know me.” His face softened almost imperceptibly. “You know who I am and what I’m capable of. If I was with Cerberus of my own accord, I wouldn’t want the Alliance and the Council chasing after me. If I had to fake my death to change sides, I would have stayed dead.”

He didn’t respond to that, but he joined her on the railing. She took a step back and her calves tensed. She knew her cybernetics enhanced her survivability, but she didn’t know about strength yet and she was unarmed. If he grabbed her, she didn’t know if she could break free.

“What have you heard about me?” she asked, leaning back on the railing, her eyes fixed on the door.

“Only rumors,” he said.

“What kind of rumors?” Words had power. People’s perception of her had power.

“Sightings of you in Cerberus uniform in the Terminus systems,” he said. “It’s never gone beyond rumors until Freedom’s Progress when we got word from several reliable sources about your return. That’s when I decided to reach out to you and find out how much of it was true.”

“Bet you didn’t think I’d show up so soon,” she said.

“You were always full of surprises Shepard,” he said.

“I think I’ve got a few more in me Councilor,” she said. She took a deep breath and looked at him. His shoulders were still straight and back, but there was a weight and tension to them that she’d never seen before. “I can’t get out yet. They’ve invested an almost unprecedented amount of time and resources to me. Even if I can escape, they won’t just let me go. They think there’s some alien anti-human conspiracy and they want me to take care of it.”

She’d seen the tapes from Freedom’s Progress, but it was all the evidence they had and video footage could be forged.

“I can bring them down from within, but I can’t do it without help.” She let some of the exhaustion of the last day show through in her voice.

“I wish I could Shepard, but you know how this looks,” he said. She hung her head and looked back to the door. The Illusive Man had two years to lay ground work for her supposed betrayal. She couldn’t undo it with a few words. “I’ll do what I can, but my hands are tied.”

“I do,” she said. “I understand sir.”

“The rest of the council wants to meet with you,” he said. “If you don’t want to, I can tell them this meeting never happened.”

“With all due respect sir, I think your secretary will remember Rachel Wall. He’s going to tell somebody and they’ll put two and two together, then they’ll realize that this meeting did happen. You don’t need to get in trouble over me.” And there was no need for her to burn bridges with people a position of such power.

“I can patch them in whenever you’re ready,” he said. She nodded.

“Before you do, I was checking the news on the sky car to get here and I saw an ad for this documentary…” she said, rubbing the back of her neck. “What’s the public perception of the reapers?”

“The council is still publically denying Sovereign was anything other than an advanced Geth ship,” he said. “I tried to make them believe you, but there’s not enough evidence…”

“What about Vigil?” The awe that washed over her as she heard the VI’s story was still one of the most powerful things she’d ever felt. Up until then, chasing after Saren had been a matter of pride and because her chances for survival were far greater in a galaxy that wasn’t in outright war with the Geth. When talking to Vigil, for the first time, she felt like she might be part of something more than herself.

“When we sent techs to the location, it was non-functional,” he said. One of her knees went weak, but she didn’t fall.

“In that case,” she said, leaning a little more on the rail. “Remember when you tried to enter my dreams into evidence, even though I told you it was a bad idea and it was going to make us all look crazy? Please don’t do that with the reapers.”

“Glad to know Cerberus didn’t take your personality Shepard,” he said, keying something into his omni-tool. The holograms on the far wall flickered to life and the three other councilors stared at her as if seeing a supposed dead woman was a mere inconvenience to them.

“Councilors,” she said, stepping off the railing, her shoulders back, her back straight, the perfect image of a military officer.

“Shepard,” Councilor Valern said. “We’d heard many rumors of your return. Most of them unsettling.”

“We’ve called this meeting so that you can explain yourself,” said Councilor Tevos. “After your actions during the battle of the citadel, we owe you that much for saving our lives.”

She almost spoke, then she paused. She had no idea how she would explain that she’d been grave robbed, resurrected, then kidnapped by terrorists and forced into chasing aliens she wasn’t sure existed outside of a convenient explanation for missing colonists. Maybe it would be better if she didn’t.

“May I speak frankly Councilors?” she said. When none of them protested, she continued. “Up until twenty-four hours ago, I was dead or in a coma. There are entire human colonies in the Terminus systems going missing and Cerberus thinks that I can stop it.”

“The Terminus systems are outside of our jurisdiction and your colonists accepted that risk when they settled out there,” Councilor Sparatus said.

“I know that,” she said. “I’m not here to ask for you to act above your authority. I want your help to take down Cerberus.”

“You understand that we’re in a difficult position Shepard. Your continued ties with Cerberus make your story highly suspect,” the Asari said. “Your affiliation with an avowed enemy of the Council could be considered treason, a capital offense…”

“That’s too far!” Anderson said. “Commander Shepard is a damn hero and I won’t let this whitewash continue!”

“Perhaps there is a compromise. We couldn’t publically show support of course, but we could perhaps show our support privately.”

“So long as you keep a low profile and keep to the terminus systems, we are prepared to offer you reinstatement into the Spectres,” the Turian added.

“It’s a purely symbolic gesture of course, we would have to publically disavow all actions taken while in the employ of Cerberus…”

“I suppose that’s all I can ask,” she said, slightly bowing her head. “Would you like me to start filing reports?”

“No!” She supposed she should have expected that from Anderson. The council passed her reports onto him on account of being the human councilor. She figured he probably wasn’t looking forwards to eight page long geological surveys of drop zones.

“This is a show of good faith only Shepard,” Valern said.

“We cannot become involved with an investigation into missing colonies in the Terminus systems,” Tevos added. “Especially one conducted by a terrorist organization. This is only to show our support of you personally.”

She supposed she should have expected this, but then she’d put so much work into getting here, all for nothing. She’d let herself get her hopes up that she would at least get something out of this, but all she could manage was public condemnation.  As much as this would leave a bitter taste in her mouth, she couldn’t waste this opportunity.

“I’m honored by your offer,” she said, forcing a smile. “And I accept.”

“Good luck in your investigations Commander. We hope for an expedient end to your relations with Cerberus,” Tevos said. She then ended the transmission and Shepard practically fell against the railing.

 For the first time, it occurred to her that she hadn’t slept since coming out of the coma.

“All things considered Shepard, I think that went pretty well,” Anderson said, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“I’m sure it will feel like it later,” she replied. She was so sure she could talk at least Anderson into helping her and then nothing came of it. “Now that that’s settled, how are things with you?”

“I won’t lie Shepard, it’s been rough,” he said. “There’s a steep learning curve to politics and without Udina as my advisor I’m not sure I would have made it this far. Some days, I feel like I’m beating my head against a wall, but I have to keep fighting for the sake of humanity.”

“I understand sir,” she said. “If I can be so forward, you would have made a much better first human Spectre.” It would make her work much easier if she didn’t have to deal with the added pressure and media attention of being the first.

“Thank you, but you’ve already done more than I ever could.”

“Before I go, the rest of the crew from the Normandy, how many made it?”

“Almost all of them,” he said. “Some are still serving, some took honorable discharges, I think a couple went AWOL…”

She almost asked about Kaidan, but the question died in her throat.

“Thank you, that’s all I needed,” she said. “I should go before my handlers get suspicious.”   

“Just do me a favor and be careful,” he said.   

“I will sir.” With that, she started out of the room, then the news came back on the radio and she had to add, “And, one more thing.” She paused in the doorway. “The next time you talk to Alliance brass, tell them that they need to stop using me for recruitment.”

With that, she left the office and the embassy, waved and flashed a thousand watt Rachel Wall smile at the secretary, then met back up with her handlers.

“Kisumi, Jacob, with me,” she said, gesturing for the two of them to follow.

“Commander?” Jacob said, practically running to keep up with her. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine Lieutenant,” she said. “We’re on a time sensitive mission, and I’m not wasting it standing around in a lobby.”

“Where to then?” He didn’t sound like he believed her, but he wasn’t about to argue.

“We’re going to need supplies so first, we’re heading to the wards for some shopping,” she said. Maybe talking shopkeepers into a discount would help restore her faith in her persuasive abilities. “But first, I need coffee.”

“Shepard, haven’t you had enough today?”

“Lieutenant, I’ve got two years without to catch up on,” she said.  “Might as well make a good dent my first day.”

Just as they got to the sky car, she caught sight of something that might truly brighten her day. Or at the very least, that damn reporter would give her some fun.


	4. Live to Die Another Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Mira Shepard repairs machinery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I’m still not sure if I’m going to stick to a schedule for this. I’m trying for weekly updates, but we’ll see. Also I really enjoy writing Shepard and Garrus interacting. 
> 
> This chapter's title is from Owl City's Bombshell Blonde.

 

Lawson told her she should go after the scientist first. It was a pitifully small act of rebellion, likely to backfire, and incredibly petty, but she instead opted to go after Archangel. She looked Lawson dead in the eye as the woman gave her what was likely a very well planned out speech, designed specifically with her psych profile in mind, in order to get her to go along with Doctor’s Orders.  

She got a sort of perverse pleasure out of responding with a simple, “No.”

“If you’re not going to listen to me, at least take me with you on this assignment,” Lawson said. “You’re letting your preconceived notions about Cerberus cloud your judgement.”

“Doctor Lawson, this is nothing personal. If it were, I’d bring Kisumi,” she said, examining her armor. “The squad needs to pass for mercenaries. Zaeed _is_ a mercenary and Lieutenant Taylor did his time with the Corsairs. Nothing in your file indicates that you are more qualified for the job than either of them.”

“Commander, after the stunt you pulled on the citadel you obviously need to have someone who’s more experienced in…"

 “I understand the difficult position I put you in with your employer by leaving my squadmates on the Citadel,” she said, setting down the shoulder piece and checking her helmet’s air filters. If she had to die again, it wouldn’t be choking. “However, should this mission go wrong, and you, Taylor, and I are on it, it will be even more difficult for whoever’s left to explain how the Illusive Man’s hand picked team was killed.”

“Do you really think I’d be so incompetent as to let the two of you get killed?”

“No, but anybody can get a lucky shot and there has to be a backup plan.” If she had her way, she had at least four going into even a basic operation. “And if something happens to you then who runs the Lazarus cell?”

Then she stopped checking her gear and looked at Lawson for a split second, her expression a calculated blank. Just long enough for Lawson to see the gears turning in her head. Just for long enough for Lawson to never feel safe on an away team with her again.

Lawson knew exactly how easy it would be for her. She had a cloak and a sniper rifle. When the mercs moved on Archangel, things could get messy. All Lawson would have to do would be to take her eyes off of her for a second and it was very difficult to track a ghost when you had bullets coming at you from all sides.

“What do you think Lawson,” she said, holding up her chest piece. “I would be correct in assuming I could requisition funds for something that doesn’t scream, “I’m a Marine! Shoot Me!” wouldn’t I?”

X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X

“Bet mine’s bigger,” she said, sliding her pistol across the table. “Sayyida al Hurra, Reds. This is my associate Jacob Taylor and I trust you know Zaeed Massani.” There was no point in pretending he was anything else.

“I thought the Reds got picked up by C-Sec a couple years ago,” the man said, taking her gun and inspecting it.

“It’s a lot easier to move Sand onto the Citadel if they think you’re all either dead or in lockup,” she said, a cocky smirk spreading across her face. Finch was like Anderson. He never saw the knife until she pulled it out of his back.

“You’re a long way from Citadel space Sayyida,” he said, checking her SMG and sniper rifle as she passed them over.  “What are you doing on Omega?”

“With old guard gone, you could say we’re finally looking to expand our avenues of interest,” she said. “A friend,” she gestured to Zaeed, “told me Blue Suns were looking to subcontract. Consider this our job interview.”

“If you can handle it,” he said. “Shuttle’s by the space port. We’ll talk payment after the job’s done.”  

“I look forward to doing business with you,” she said, taking her weapons back and holstering them.

Some kid bumped her on her way out. She took one look at him, skinny, too big ears, a pistol with kickback he probably couldn’t handle, and told herself that she took the gun and crushed it like a cheap beer can so that she had to fight one less merc to get to Archangel.

**_X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X_ **

If there was one thing Mira Shepard hated more than getting into getting into a fight, it was getting into a fair fight. Fortunately, this was a loosely allied group of mercenary factions.  They trusted each other about as well as she could handle an assault rifle and with the right words, they’d do half her work for her.

This would work better if she had more time. She could be more subtle if she had more time. As it was, she was using a sledgehammer to do the work of a surgical scalpel. If she had at least a week behind enemy lines, she could have half of them dead before they hit the bridge and the other half spooking at their own shadows. As much as she would have liked a week, she could make do with a few hours and Archangel already had the leadership jumpy.

Eclipse would be first across the bridge. She quietly let slip to Taylor as they were walking through their camp that Blue Sun must value them about as much as they did the freelancers, but she was grateful she wasn’t in between Blood Pact and their pay day. 

Then it would be Blood Pact. Again, Eclipse would be first across the bridge. They’d get credit for taking down Archangel and the Blue Suns would get credit for organizing the whole thing. As one of the krogan was walking by, she whispered to Zaeed that she thought that the Blue Suns were afraid of the Blood Pact getting to Archangel and just loudly enough for the Krogan to hear, he agreed.

Blue Suns would be the hardest to crack. They ran more like a corporation than a mercenary group. Before joining up, she sat in a hole in the wall noodle shop and studied what little data on them she could get past Cerberus censors and questioned Zaeed about what he remembered from his time with them. He’d been cagey and while she’d been able to remove the worst of the monitoring software from her Omni-tool, the blocks were strong as ever. She would have to make do with sabotaging their hardware.

Still, it wasn’t a waste of time. She wasn’t going to eat anything provided to her by Cerberus. It would be all too easy for them to slip something into food to make her compliant. Cheap noodles wouldn’t be her first choice of first meal, but she wasn’t in a position to be picky.

She was surprised they left the YMIR units as unsecured as they did, but they had no reason to suspect anybody would hack the mechs and she wasn’t about to look a gift mech in the charge port. She set Jacob and Zaeed to watch the door while she cloaked and went to work.

The YMIR units had a notorious short circuit in their head. One lucky shot would take out not only the mech, but any surrounding combatants. She could rewire it to blow as soon as it booted up, but there was no fun in that. Reprogramming the friend-or-foe targeting would be more difficult, but ultimately more rewarding.

If it started firing on its own masters, it would deepen the rift between the factions. Any survivors would wonder why it turned on them, they could continue with their mission, but they could also bolt or go out for revenge. Any outcome would be acceptable. Moreso if they chose to go after the other mercs, but any who remained after the mech was done with them would be tired and worn down, easier to pick off.

Plus, hacking the mech’s targeting systems would make her feel better about not being able to hack into Cerberus’ databases.

She finished the hack and on her way out of the room, rifled through the crates for good measure. Taylor gave her a look, but she ignored it. If he wanted to judge her for picking up the odd loose credit chit or datapad, she could remind him that he was part of a terrorist organization.

Then there was the gunship. If that got off the ground, it could be a bit of a problem. She did not like the odds of the three of them plus a vigilante who may not want to join them versus a gunship, plus whatever mercs were left over.

She would have to wait for the other freelancers to clear out, then there was only Sargent Cathka. If she could get herself alone with that ship for a few minutes, she could do some truly beautiful work. She didn’t have time to ground it, but she could jam the guns, sabotage the cooling system, overload the steering, disable the shield generators, all manner of chaos.

She checked in with the other freelancers and slipped under the rail to talk to Cathka. He asked why she wasn’t with the other freelancers, she told him she wanted to get as much information on their situation as possible. She asked her questions, mostly about the bridge and what he thought about Archangel’s capabilities. He answered, then they got the signal to move on Archangel’s position. The rest of the freelancers made for the bridge.

She hung back and found that in a pinch, an electric welder made an excellent stun gun.

She asked Jacob to drag Cathka behind some crates while she figured out what to do with the gunship. It was only a matter of time until they found his unconscious body and she intended to be as far away as possible when that happened.

Cathka left his screwdrivers within easy reach of the console. Having something solid in her hands as she worked felt calming. She liked hardware, didn’t get enough chances to work on it. This kind of work, sabotage and infiltration was far more in line with her skillset than a straight up firefight.

She started pulling wires loose, but leaving them just enough in their sockets so that it looked like nothing happened. She smiled because she was six years out and she still hadn’t lost her touch.

She allowed herself a moment to relish the warmth spreading through her chest as she shorted the battery and the thrill of evading detection. She never thought she’d thank Cerberus for giving her a chance to truly shine again, but the work felt good. It felt like home.  

She wanted to take her time with this, give the task the care and attention it deserved, but she would have to settle for one quick, yet difficult to detect solution. Decoupling the shield generator would be the best she could do in two minutes.

She could only hope that the pilot saw the unconscious Sargent and thought better of getting in the gunship.

**_X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X_ **

“Taylor, Massani, hang back,” she said, taking cover behind a crate.  

She watched the other freelancers cross over the bridge, watched too many fall to sniper fire. Archangel was just as good as the mercs made him out to be. Between the Reds, Alliance Intelligence, and Special Forces, she’d been shot at by many people. Very few could match the speed and accuracy with which he placed each shot. Even if he was exhausted and making mistakes, she had to admire his skill.

She thought better of having Zaeed and Jacob cross the bridge with her. She could cloak. They couldn’t. She could get to Archangel without being mistaken for one of the mercenaries coming to kill them.

She cloaked and peered through her scope. One of the bomb techs made it through to the building. She was working on something in front of a couch. The mercenaries were clustered. If she could shoot it, she could take out the tech and a good number of the freelancers. It would blow her cover, but maybe it would be better to do that here than in the middle of a bunch of pissed off freelancers.

“Alright,” she said, ducking back down and turning to her squad. “Both of you stay here and give me cover. I’m going to clear a path. Follow on my order.”

She made sure her rifle was loaded, then took the shot. As the explosion ripped through the building, she jumped the crate and rushed the gap. She took cover behind a pillar and checked her SMG before getting a look at the room.

There were two freelancers left downstairs, one staggering to get their bearings, and she didn’t know how many on the second floor. The concrete prevented the fire from overtaking the building, yet the shouldering couch provided enough smoke to give her some cover. She leaned out to get a better angle on the more oriented mercenary.

Pain ripped through her shoulder and she dropped to her knees.

“ _Secure the O 2 line with one hand and firmly hold it in place, while with the other, turn the locking mechanism…”_

She shook her head and took a moment to breathe, remind herself that she could. She didn’t have a dislocated shoulder and she didn’t have an airline to secure with one hand. She didn’t have time for this. Archangel hadn’t finished the job, but that didn’t mean that the freelancers couldn’t.

As she scrambled back to her feet, one of the freelancers glowed bright blue before being pulled onto the bridge. Behind her there was a crack of sniper fire, whether it was Zaeed or Archangel she didn’t know.

“Commander?” Jacob said. “You still there?”

She still didn’t trust or like Jacob, but she knew where she stood with him and unlike Lawson, he had no delusions about the darker side of Cerberus. He was an honest man, but not a true believer. She wouldn’t trust him at her back outside of a firefight, but so long as he was ostensibly on her side, she could work with him.

“Not my first time getting shot,” she said. The Cerberus armor she’d borrowed held up remarkably well.  “Nor will it likely be the last.”

She made short work of the last freelancer in the room, then signaled for her squad to follow up the stairs. As she finished hacking her way through a blood-spattered door, as a point of professional pride, she was almost tempted to double tap the mercenary responsible for bungling the lock so badly she had to work around not only Archangel’s safeguards, but his own crappy safecracking code.

“Archangel?” she said, entering the room, her squadmates close behind.

The Turian turned to her and settled onto a crate. His posture was a failed attempt at confidence, what was supposed to be a casual lean looked more like a tired slump, and his hands shook as he began to remove his helmet. 

Somehow, she was not surprised to see the face under the helmet, nor the trouble that he had gotten himself into.

“Garrus?”  she said, dropping her SMG to her side. She wouldn’t thank Lawson for stopping her from looking him up on the Citadel, but she was glad she hadn’t wasted her time and a lot of worrying.

“Shepard,” the Turian said. His voice wavered. Whether it was exhaustion, blood loss, or shock at seeing her she couldn’t say. “I thought you were dead.”

“I got better,” she replied, breaking out in a rare grin. “No thanks to you by the way.”

“Concussive rounds only, I had to make it look good,” he replied. “Didn’t want the mercs to get suspicious.”

“If you say so,” she said. “Garrus, what are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he replied, wincing as he shifted on the crate.

“I can explain later,” she said, setting up her gear near the balcony. “Right now, you’ve got all the major mercenary factions on Omega waiting on the other side of that bridge for you, so unless you’ve got another way out, we’re the cavalry.”

“I’m stuck up here,” he replied. “Still, it’s good to see a friendly face.”

“I’d say it’s about time for you and me both,” she said, holding out her arm to help him off the crate. “Getting in here was easy, getting out’s going to be another story.”  

“The bridge’s worked so far, these morons have nowhere to hide, forcing them to group up and walk in a line, but it works both ways. If we try to leave…”

“Then we’re the morons with nowhere to hide from dozens of assault rifles,” she said, pinching the bridge of her nose. “So we’re going to have to shoot our way through three of the most powerful mercenary factions on Omega to get out. Fantastic.” She’d prepared for this. It didn’t mean she had to like it.

“It’ll be just like old times Shepard,” he said, setting the rifle on the railing.

“You want to know how many times I almost died in the old times?” she said.

“Hey now, you got better,” he replied. His laugh sounded more like a cough. “Let’s get a look at what these guys are up to…” He put his eye to the scope. “Looks like they know their infiltration team failed. They’re gearing up for round two.”

He handed her the rifle so she could look. Eclipse mechs walked through the gates. The LOKI model shared a key design flaw with the YMIR mechs and Eclipse hadn’t thought to protect the heads.

“We’ve got company,” she said, tossing Garrus his rifle. “Massani, set up on the far end of the balcony. Taylor, go with him. Anything that gets to the building, pull it back. If I need you to, both of you be ready to fall back to the steps.”

She would stay with Garrus. He looked unsteady and she knew what days of being trapped with no sleep and little food and water would do to a person.

“I’m impressed Garrus,” she said, settling into position next to him. “Every single merc in Omega and they’re all here to see you.”

“It wasn’t easy Shepard,” he replied, reloading. “I really had to work on it.”

As much as she would have liked to keep up the banter, there was work to be done. Zaeed’s swearing told her that the enemy had deployed rocket launchers. They would have to work quickly, take them out first.

Then a tell-tale noise told her that Eclipse was deploying the YMIR unit and she suppressed a grin. It certainly wasn’t her best work, but from the shouting below she could tell that she’d done at least a satisfactory job.

“Shepard, you look way too proud of yourself,” Garrus said, leaning against the wall to catch his breath. “What did you do?”

“A good job,” she said, grinning as she reloaded.  

Then from the other side of the bridge came a surprisingly clear shout of, “Fuck this! You’re not paying me enough!”

“A very good job,” she added.

**X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X**

The floor around his head was blue and her heart was in her throat, but she had to keep going. She didn’t think this through. She didn’t prepare enough. She let herself get cocky and let herself think that just damaging the gunships’s shields would be enough. She had the opportunity, she could have done more.

“Garrus,” she said, dropping to her knees beside him and prepping the little medi-gel she had left. He moaned, she didn’t know if she should take that as a good sign. “Come on Garrus. I didn’t come all the way here just for you to die on me.”

She had basic first aid training and Kaidan had walked her through more complicated procedures. As she looked at Garrus, she knew that his injuries went far beyond her meager skillset, but she couldn’t help him if she panicked.  

“Jacob,” she said, willing her hands steady as she gently tore the medigel pack open. She kept her voice level, emotionless. “Radio the ship. Tell Dr. Chakwas to get the medbay prepped, dextro materials only, Turian fluids, and that if Lawson gets within twenty yards of this patient, she can take a walk into the airlock with a faulty helmet.”


	5. Give a Little, Get a Lot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Mira Shepard plays cards

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's cold. My hands don't work right when it's cold. Updates may be slower than I thought. Also I kinda imagined Mira as being a little older than canon Shepard. And I am looking forwards so so much to angst and horrible things! 
> 
> This chapter's title comes from Power and Control by Marina and the Diamonds.

 “How are you settling in?” His mandibles flared and he reached for the nearest tool. Despite his entire career with C-Sec and two years as Archangel, Shepard still managed to sneak up on him.

Garrus took a moment to steady himself before turning around. The battery was still spinning when he stopped. The details on his right side were too sharp and colors were dull, some entirely gone. Doctor Chakwas did the best she could, but a human cybernetic eye would take a lot of getting used to.

When everything settled, he realized that she wasn’t just looking at him, she was watching. She studied him with the same cold skepticism she never stopped giving Liara. The Asari spent too much time amongst artifacts to recognize the diplomatically veiled suspicion for what it was. He spent enough time dealing with Citadel politics and by now, he knew Shepard well enough to know better.

He thought she was dead, then she showed up right when he thought he was. She was wearing Cerberus colors, walking around a ship that looked like the Normandy, but didn’t feel like it. She hadn’t told him how she wound up here, her face was cracked and scarred, practically glowing. It looked and acted like a reasonable approximation of Shepard, but there was something off that he couldn’t quite put a claw on.

He wasn’t sure if this was Shepard or Cerberus’ Shepard construct and she wanted to assess his loyalty.

“Things are alright, for now,” he replied. “It’s good to see you again.”

“I know,” she said, leaning on the railing by the controls.

“I never thought I’d see you in Cerberus uniform Shepard,” he said.

He’d never seen her half as brutal as she was the last time they had a run-in with Cerberus. She knew exactly what she wanted going into the base on Nepheron. It was cold, precise, and nearly surgical. She shot to disable, bullets through hands, blown kneecaps, ruptured spleens, broken spines, anything to make sure that any survivors would live the rest of their lives in agony.

“Wasn’t exactly my choice,” she said, stretching her shoulders.  “I tried to expense other clothes to their accounts, but for some reason they shot down a dozen designer pantsuits and a Slutty Commander Shepard Halloween costume.”

“Savages,” he replied. Maybe this was actually Shepard as only she would find the costume funny.  “But seriously Commander, you saw all those sick experiments they were running and…”

“I didn’t forget,” she said, her eyes flicking towards something on the wall. “I don’t trust them, I don’t want to work with them, but I have no other choice. They think the Collectors are targeting human colonies and they want me to investigate.”

“And you’re going along with it?” he said. That didn’t seem like Shepard. She took evidence and burden of proof very seriously. 

“For now.” She ran a hand through her hair, tucking a couple dark strands behind her ear and looked to the wall again. “I thought you were going back to C-Sec, almost looked you up on the Citadel.”

She tilted her head, raised her eyebrows. Both of them were intact. She didn’t look like herself without the scar running through the right one.

This time, he followed her gaze. There was something nestled among the pipes and wires, nearly indistinguishable from the other parts of the ship. It was some kind of monitor. Her glances had been a warning. _“They’re listening.”_

 “I tried,” he said, closing the bad eye before slowly turning to face her. “There was a lot of clean up after Sovereign, but everybody wanted to believe that it wasn’t real and it felt like every time I was making a difference, they’d pull me back with red tape. I thought I could do more good on Omega.”

“And did you?”

“We tried,” he said. Up until Sidonis’ betrayal, he and his team were doing good work. They were disrupting mercenary operations, busting drug smugglers, making Omega a safer place for civilians. Some days, when they were all around the base, swapping war stories and planning their next move, it felt like they really could clean up the station.

“The rest of your team, what were they like?” She always had dark circles under her eyes, at first he thought they were some kind of human marking before Williams set him straight on that. No, they’re not markings. Yes, the Commander always has them, the doc says she doesn’t get enough sleep.

Maybe it was the new eye, but they looked very dark today.

“There were twelve of us,” he said. Maybe the sedatives hadn’t fully worn off because his tongue felt heavy in his mouth. “Former C-Sec, mercenaries, I think our explosives expert was Salarian Special Tasks, we could never be sure, our tech guy was a Batarian, you would have liked him, wasn’t the friendliest, but he could hack a FEMUR system in twenty-eight seconds…”

“At my _best_ I could do thirty-two…”

“…and they all lost somebody to Omega.”

“Sounds like a good squad.” She sounded almost wistful, like she was thinking of the old days. He was struck by how much he missed hitting the ground with her, setting up on a ridge so far from their targets their rangefinders no longer worked. 

“The best,” he added. “We were giving the people of Omega hope and with every single piece of criminal scum we took down, things got better. We had a good set up. It was clean, surgical. Never any civilian casualties.”

“What happened?” She was still studying him, trying to determine where his loyalties laid, with her or the organization that brought both of them back from the brink of death.

“It was my own damn fault,” he admitted, stepping away from the railing. He began to pace as he continued, “One of my own betrayed me. A Turian named Sidonis, he drew me away from the rest of the group, then the mercs hit.”

“You think he sold you out?”

“I know he did,” he said, his claws tightening into a fist. “Two of them were still alive when I got there. They didn’t last too much longer. Yara…she was barely nineteen, but she could toss a Krogan half a block with her mind…she came to Omega to find her brother. Flavius was in white collar in C-Sec until he got fed up with all the politicking…”

“Garrus, don’t go there,” she said. Somehow, it sounded like somebody else’s advice. “You can’t change…”

“I can’t change the past. I know!” he said, wheeling on her. He gripped the railing to stop the spinning. “I can’t fix my mistakes, but the thought of Sidonis going free while they’re all dead…”

He closed his eyes and saw the bodies, wondered how long it would take to replicate each and every bullet wound in Sidonis.

“I told my story Shepard.” He loosened his grip on the railing. “Your turn.”

“I was grave robbed, resurrected, then shanghaied into leading a suicide squad through an uncharted relay to supposedly save the galaxy,” she said, rubbing her forehead. “When I find out who sold me out to Cerberus, I’m going to leave them on a surgical slab for two years, see how they like it.”

He could already hear Doctor Chakwas scolding him for tearing his stitches, but laughed anyway.   It wasn’t really funny and it still hurt to laugh, but he’d had so little to laugh about and at least now he didn’t taste blood.

“You always had a way with words,” he said.

“Says it right in my file, Qualifications – Very good with words, can talk a Spectre to death at 30 paces.” There was not an inconsiderable amount of pride in that statement. “How’s our gunnery?”

“Between C-Sec and mercenary work, I thought I’d seen every weapon in the galaxy,” he said. “Then Cerberus rebuilds the Normandy with a few upgrades, it makes me wish we’d joined up with them sooner.”

There was an almost imperceptible change in her posture, just a little bit straighter backed, her head tipped up ever so slightly. Her voice was as even keeled as ever. “I’m glad you’re appreciating this ship’s improved weapons.”

“You know that’s not what I meant Shepard,” he said. “I don’t trust these people, but you take what you can get.”

“I presume the crew is treating you well,” she said. 

“They’ve given me a pretty wide berth so far,” he said. “I think being one of the heroes of the Citadel earned me some points with them. Also I think they’re a little afraid of what you’ll do if they said anything.”

“Good,” she said. “We’ll talk again later. We have business to attend to before we can continue our mission.  I trust you’ll be ready before we hit the ground?”

“Don’t worry Shepard, I’ve got your back,” he said.

“I know,” she said. She pushed off from the railing and left the room without another word.

**_X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X_ **

“Shepard, you can’t seriously be thinking of going back to Aria for information,” Lawson said. At this point, she was so practiced at it that she didn’t have to look to finish snipping the lines to the video monitors. “After what you did with the Patriarch and after she sent you into that death trap…”

“We’re even,” she finished, setting down her wire cutters and checking the seal on her airline. “I temporarily disrupt her operations by giving her pet Krogan his quad back, she sends me into a YMIR filled death trap as payment. That’s how the system works. If Cerberus knows half as much about my life as they claim to, they’d know that I know how to work with these kinds of people.”

“That was eighteen years ago and a petty street gang is not the same as…” Lawson added.

“If you have any doubts as to how I’m running our mission, you have a direct line to the Illusive Man, which you can use at any time,” she said. She pried open the cover on the CO2 scrubbers. She was seventy-two hours out from needing a replacement, but it wouldn’t hurt to get new ones early. If it would cost Cerberus money, then it would be even better.

**_X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X_ **

The second Mordin dropped the handful of Lawson’s bugs into her hands, she knew she liked him. She didn’t trust him, but she liked him.

He’d given her the good bugs, already disabled. Lawson decided that wasting the high end ones on her quarters was too expensive after she tossed the fifth set into the airlock. In retrospect, she should have kept one or two aside to work on, rewire them to disrupt her monitoring frequencies, but the look on Lawson’s face once she realized what happened almost made it worth it.

Aria was right, he did talk far too fast, but she liked hearing his thought process, although even she couldn’t follow all of it. She took a few classes on chemistry, but while she could make a very good fertilizer based bomb, she couldn’t keep up with Mordin. She would have to study up on medicine and biochemistry. It wasn’t as if she was going to be able to sleep tonight anyway. She had too much she needed to do for that.

She could afford to steal an hour or two at her desk, maybe when she knew enough to follow along with the doctor she could take a whole night. Maybe. She didn’t think she could manage it.

EDI still wouldn’t pull the shade shut over the bed. She didn’t think the stars would be a problem once she closed her eyes and pulled the blankets over her head, but it had become a sticking point. She would refuse to sleep in the bed until EDI made that concession.

The desk wasn’t much better. Where the bed was far too soft, she knew from experience that sleeping at her desk was uncomfortable if she wanted more than a quick nap. The desk was also full reminders that Cerberus knew things about her they had no business knowing.

There was a box of cigarettes in one of the drawers, she hadn’t smoked since she was eighteen. Her real school records were in her file, she thought Essex buried those better than she had. Almost all her redacted files were in her drawers, Intel and Black-Ops. She thought she’d been careful with the lieutenant, but obviously she hadn’t been careful enough.

Lawson liked to hide bugs in the photo frame. Each time she thought she should feel at least _something_ when she removed them. 

For now, knowing the extent of Lawson’s monitoring capabilities was far more important than keeping up with Mordin without a translator. She could ask Mordin to put his work in simpler terms for now. She’d give Lawson back a few, maybe reactivate a few more and give them to Garrus for target practice. A little bit of surprise sniper fire never hurt anybody.

She was grateful for Garrus’ presence onboard the ship. From the timeline available to her, he’d been either with C-Sec or on Omega for too long for Cerberus to have gotten to him and they were a _very_ humanist organization. Lawson’s surprise when she realized who they’d brought onboard certainly seemed genuine and Garrus wasn’t a good enough actor to fake what she’d heard in the battery.

Then again, two years was a long time and she hadn’t lived as long as she had by taking things at face value.  She would reserve judgement for when she could observe Garrus for a little while longer. Maybe later she would have him go over schematics with her in the starboard lounge, he could tell her more about the ship’s gunpower and the changes he was making. 

If she was going to work on the bugs, she would need tools. She couldn’t ask Mordin, he could more in-line with Cerberus than he appeared and if she was smart enough to put two and two together, then he certainly was. Engineering didn’t know about the bugs and had a plethora of jewelers’ screwdrivers and other suitably sized tools.

Getting to Engineering would the problem. She glanced out at the CIC. Chambers was at her post. Probably waiting to tell her about her unread emails, make a very obvious observation about a crewmember, or to tell her about how wonderful Cerberus was. As much as she needed to win Chambers over to her, seeing as most of the crew liked her for some inexplicable reason, she didn’t have the energy to deal with her after nearly being fried by flamethrowers.

She ducked back into the lab and opened up coms. “Chambers, I need you to bring Operative Taylor the mission reports from the environmental control unit, specifically the ones detailing the pyros. As him if he can put together noninflammable armor upgrades.”

“Of course. Anything for you Commander.” If she didn’t know better, she’d think that woman’s voice sounded half-indoctrinated.

“Please remember that mission reports are in the folders with the red tabs.” As much as it hurt to let her touch her files, she would get through this much faster and would want to punch things significantly less if she didn’t have to remind Chambers that she was perfectly capable of checking her own email.

She waited a minute and asked Mordin if he thought the Collectors were actually behind this plague. The only evidence for this was the word of a Vorcha. If Cerberus had the resources to bring her back from the dead, they could engineer a disease that would target anything but humans. Bioweapons were tricky and diseases could mutate in unpredictable ways, but it was in line with Cerberus’ objectives.

 He detailed everything he knew about Collector tech, which, much like the rest of the galaxy, wasn’t much. As he concluded that it was well within the realm of possibility, she checked the CIC again.

Chambers was gone, but she’d left her datapad at her station. Everything within her became still and focused. Her muscles tensed and her heartrate slowed. She didn’t know how long Chambers would be gone. Lawson would see her on the cameras, but when asked she’d taken it, she’d claim Chambers annoyed her and she wanted to return the favor.

She’d return it later, leave it in the starboard lounge for Chambers to find. If she didn’t find the passcodes by the time she was done in engineering, she could always take it back. She could only imagine the kind of information that the ship’s councilor would have access to. Maybe Wayne hadn’t been bluffing about video from Akuze.

The best way to steal something was to act like you were supposed to have it. The datapad was locked, but she was miming commands on it from the second she picked it up and nobody looked at her twice as she walked into the elevator.

Lawson had put a couple obviously placed bugs in engineering. She would have to disable those and check for anything additional before she asked after tools. She didn’t need Lawson knowing that she was looking for them. The engineers might tell, but she’d give them a line about wanting to reinforce her hardsuit’s airline.

“Daniels, Donnelly, would it be possible for me to borrow some tools?” she said, stepping through the doorframe. There was a particularly obvious bug on the underside of the guardrail. Having enough strength to crush the damn things was one of the few perks of her cybernetic enhancements.

“Can this wait?” Donnelly said, not turning away from his screen.

“We’re in the middle of maintenance,” Daniels added, her voice muffled and metallic. She was so far into a maintenance shaft that only her feet were visible. “Ken try it again!”

He pushed a button, watched the field strength change. She continued her sweep while they worked. It was almost insulting how easy they were to find here. There was only one hidden in an even remotely inconspicuous location and the blinking orange light gave it away.

“Field bleed’s still off,” he said, rubbing his forehead. “This is taking too long.”

“What seems to be the problem?” she said, turning away from a cluster of exposed wires. If there was a problem with the engines, she should have heard about it.

“When they upgraded the Normandy, they got sloppy with the FBA couplings,” Donnelly said. “I won’t bore you with…”

“I won’t be bored,” she replied. “My degree’s in electronics,” She couldn’t mask the pride in her voice. It had been over a decade, but the joy was fresh as ever, “but I can follow along and I like knowing how my ship runs.”

“There’s an array of attenuators in the primary power transfer system that manage the field bleed…” His voice perked up and he started gesturing wildly.

She leaned back on the railing and listened. Without the right leadership, any engineering sector could become a clash of egos. Yet no matter what, they couldn’t contain their passion for their work. She used to look forwards to checking in on Adams on rounds, if only to hear Sykes come up to them to let them know that there was a really cool problem with the heat sink and she wanted input on her fix.

“Kenneth! Sorry to cut you off, but we have to focus,” Daniels said. Something in the wall rattled. “Long story short Commander, if we had T6 FBA couplings, it would save us a lot of maintenance time every day.”

“Is there any particular reason they’re not already installed?” she said, rubbing her eyebrow where her scar used to be.

“It’s probably a design oversight,” Daniels said. “It’s nothing serious, it just saves us a lot of time.”

“And the T6 model was discontinued so you gotta get ‘em used,” he added.

“When I look up why they were discontinued, what am I going to find?” she said.

“They were prone to overheating,” Daniels admitted. “I’ve done the calculations though and it won’t be a problem with the improvements we made to the Normandy’s heatsinks.”

She found she trusted engineering pride more than she distrusted Cerberus ties.

“Won’t be a problem,” she said. “I’ve got a salvage yard that owes me.” Maybe this time Kenn would have some aftermarket flashdrives too.

**_X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X_ **

“Now we only have to calibrate every week instead of every day,” Donnelly said. “We’re thinking of celebrating our free time with a few rounds of Skyllian Five. You want to join us?”

“Come on Kenneth, the Commander doesn’t want to waste time playing cards with us grease monkeys,” Daniels said.

“Lawson doesn’t disapprove of this?” As casual as Cerberus claimed to be, she couldn’t imagine Lawson allowing this onboard.

“What she doesn’t know don’t hurt her,” Donnelly said. “The monitors down here are all for show anyway.”

“Too much interference from the engines for Cerberus analysts to work with,” Daniels clarified. “They work in the cargo bays, but not so close to the engines.”

She hadn’t been planning on playing, but she would need to verify this. There was no better way to evaluate somebody’s poker face. It didn’t hurt that she suspected this would end in far fewer poisonings than her last game of cards.

“Actually, that sounds like fun,” she said. She smiled just enough to put them at ease, barely an uptick in the corners of her mouth. “It’s been a while and my Skyllian Five’s a bit rusty,” she rubbed the back of her neck. “You’re going to have to go easy on the rookie…”


	6. Pillars of Sand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was like her, stubborn enough to survive just about anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay for overly melodramatic backstory. Whatevs man. I'm trying to get better at this, I'm really trying. And I'm having a blast doing it. Title's from Coldplay's Viva la Vida.

"He handled the books, I led the men," Zaeed said. Mira almost paused rifling through the dead woman's pockets. "Worked real well for a time, then Vido decided to start hiring Batarians. Cheaper labor, he said. Goddamn terrorists, I said."

"Twenty years is a long time to hold a grudge," she said, taking a credit chit and a few spare thermal clips.

"Vido turned my men against me!" There were footsteps behind her. She could practically see Zaeed pointing a finger at her. "He paid six of them to restrain me while he put a gun to my head and pulled the trigger!"

"You survived." The woman had a datapad so old it was practically analog. It wouldn't work with any of the latest and greatest tech onboard the ship. It was almost a dream come true.

"You survived your ship getting disintegrated," he said. "A stubborn enough person can survive just about anything. Rage is a hell of an anesthetic."

**_X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X_ **

Finch tossed his empty off the warehouse roof. Its arc broke her smoke ring.

"Asshole," she said, shoving him and taking another drag. "It's going to work Finch. Screw protection, screw Sand, and screw the same city blocks we've had for years. I'm going to write our name in the stars!"

"You're gonna get us killed," he said, leaning back against the barrels.

"You don't see a lot of old Reds," she said. "Look around you!" She pointed to the weak yellow lights of the city. "I can see our entire territory from this roof. Do you want to spend the rest of your life fighting over this?" She pointed again. "Carmen brought me on because I had vision!"

"You tried to pickpocket her and you fucked up." She blew smoke at him.

"Fine, she liked me because I had vision." Carmen would have been proud to see what she had planned. "I've been putting the funds aside for a while, I have the guns and armor, most of our people are loyal to me...the only thing between me and being mercenary queen of the galaxy of the galaxy is Tara and her lack of ambition."

"Tara's a good leader," he said. "Corona's scared of her and…"

"Profits are down because she keeps shooting people who can be brought in line," she said. "Killing people who owe you money is bad for business."

"Can't you make us great here?" he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "The crew's not gonna like this and you're not a mercenary."

"Can't be any harder than running the Reds." She'd done the books since she was fifteen and Tara hadn't held any real power in months. "And they'll like the money. We'll join up with a real crew for a year or two, learn the ropes, and then we'll strike out on our own."

"I don't know, who's gonna help my Nonna with groceries…"

"Just think Finch, if we do this, you can send her enough money to set her up with the kind of place she deserves," she said, laying a hand on his shoulder. "She can have working heat and you're not going to have to help her carry groceries up nine flights of stairs." She rubbed circles into his shoulder with her thumb. "Tell you what, you can talk to the recruiters. Get the signing bonus."

"What about you?"

"I just work with the money. I get paid with the challenge." It would spare her the liability if this went south and Finch's Nonna deserved to live in a place that didn't get shot up every other week. "What do you say, I keep working the money, you take over our people..."

"Whatever you say Shep," he replied, opening another beer and holding it out to her. "Just be careful. Mollie's still pissed about that stunt with Corona, heard she's talking to Parallax."

"She doesn't see the big picture. Tom and Lucy were their best enforcers. They're ours now and if we're going to be successful we're going to need people like that," she said, waving off the offer. "I can bring her around."

"She's angry with you. Tara was angry with Carmen." He took a sip and she looked away from him to the deep red lipstick stain on her filter. She could never quite match Carmen's shade. "You're my friend Shepard, I don't want you to get hurt."

"You know I'm right," she said, her voice was bright and confident, maybe a little smug. "I've got the aptitude test scores to prove it."

"Still don't know why you took those," he replied.

"They were free and I was bored." She shrugged, knocked the ashes from her cigarette and watched them fall.

It was all a part of her back up plan. She had letters of recommendation and forged school records. Her scores, no matter how exceptional, weren't enough to get her into any schools. She could hack anything with software, faking records wasn't exactly difficult. The letters were just as easy. Seattle Central was a big public school. She just had to say she took pre-calc or history with a teacher a year or two ago and act hurt when they didn't remember her out of the hundreds of students they had each year.

If her coup didn't go as planned, she would still have a future.

"What do you say Finch? You and me," she said, taking a beer from his case and cracking it open. "We're going to put the Reds on the entire Galaxy's map."

"If you really think we can do this Shepard, I believe you," he said.

She raised her beer and pointed to the sky. "Our future's up there, so here's to the stars."

"Here's to the stars," he replied.

**_X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X_ **

"Zaeed Massani, you finally tracked me down." Zaeed already had his rifle trained on the man on the catwalk. She shook her head. There were six of Vido's men and three of them, and only two were thinking clearly. The Blue Suns had the vantage point and there was next to no cover in the garage, it would be like picking off fish in a barrel.

Zaeed started towards his former partner, reloading his avenger, and her legs tensed. She'd gone into this thinking they were there to free a refinery from mercenary control. If he'd told her they were there to kill his former partner, she would have prepared very differently. At the very least, she wouldn't have come in through the front door.

"Don't be stupid Zaeed. I've got a whole company of bloodthirsty bastards ready to kill or be killed on my command." The control panel could provide passable cover when this went FUBAR. "Actually, take your shot. Give my men a reason to put you down like the mad dog you are. Again."

As Zaeed started shooting, she was very inclined to agree with Vido. This was not shaping up to be her day.

"What was that? Gone nearsighted old friend?" There was a faint hiss and the smell of gas filled the air.

"Garrus get down!" They ducked behind the control panel just in time to escape the blast. There was more gunfire, the sharp staccato of assault rifles. Under that, there was a banging and she turned to see Zaeed hammering at the gas line with his rifle. "The hell is he doing?"

The following explosion answered her question.

"Gate's open," he said, his eyes transfixed on the door as he walked towards the fire.

She leapt to her feet and grabbed his shoulder. "What was that Massani? There was no goddamn way you could have told me what you were really after? Now you set a fire in a goddamn oil refinery."

"Were we supposed to wander around in the jungle for hours looking for a way in?" he said, turning and pointing a finger at her. "You can waste as much time as you want, I'm going to kill Vido."

"You're endangering the mission," she said. Her fingers twitched and almost curled into a fist. "And for what?"

"You really want to do this now Shepard?" he said, trying to walk by her.

"There's hundreds of lives at stake and now thanks to you, we're stuck in a burning refinery," she said.

"Let these people burn," he said. There was something dangerous in his eyes. It would be pointless to argue with a mad dog. "Vido dies, no matter the cost."

There was only one way out and unfortunately, it was following Zaeed into the fire. Just as they were about to enter the refinery, one of the workers rushed out onto one of the catwalks, shouting something about shutoff valves. She paused her bypass program and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"I agreed to help you with the contract from Eldfell-Ashland," she said, starting towards the railing. "We're sticking to the contract." She vaulted the rail and tucked and rolled into her landing.

Garrus climbed down the pipes behind her. Zaeed glared at them from the rail, but eventually started down after them.

Garrus followed her towards the door. She could almost hear the wheels turning in his head, making the inevitable comparisons between Vido and Sidonis. "Are you sure?"

"We're here to free these people Garrus. We're going in," she replied. "There's no point in chasing a ghost."

**_X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*X_ **

She rubbed at her scar and reached for the pack of cigarettes in her drawer. Her Omni-tool beeped at her again. She was supposed to be at Tara's party an hour ago, but had too much to do.

She sent Tom over with a case of pharma grade poppies and her apologies instead. With any luck, she'd be too hungover tomorrow to stop what was coming. After that, it was just a matter of picking up the pieces. Tara still had a few supporters, but even with them to contend with, they'd be off-world within two months.

They just had to set aside a little more money. Tara's latest petty feud with Parallax cost them four of their best men and nearly ten thousand credits in product and arms. Maybe if everything went according to plan, they could pull out of drugs and put the money that would go towards new product into new armor, maybe make up the deficit.

It would be easier if Finch were here to bounce ideas off of, but he was meeting with another recruiter tonight. Maybe she'd like this contract better than the last.

She looked back to her datapad and pulled her hoodie a little closer around her. She twirled her stylus between her fingers and brought a cigarette to her lips. The warehouse was secure, but it was damn cold and she didn't want to get up to refill the generator's gas tank.

She flicked her lighter and inhaled. Just as it caught, she heard the side door open. She tucked her stylus behind her ear and turned towards the door.

"Mollie?" she said. The girl leaned in the doorframe, glowering at her. "I thought you'd be at the party."

"Thought I'd bring it to you." She stepped into the warehouse followed by two women and a man in Parallax green. She thought she recognized the blonde with the shotgun, Katya, Kitty, something like that. She ran one of the chop shops. Mira cost her a few of her mechanics a year ago.

She had a pistol taped to the underside of her desk. It was small caliber, prone to jamming, it was meant to threaten more than anything else. She let Finch take her good gun with him to the recruiter. Even with a good gun, she was outnumbered. She'd fended off other attempts on her life, but from the look in the other woman's stony grey eyes, this was more than just business.

"Parallax? Really?" she said, holding her cigarette to keep her hands from shaking. She had two things going for her. First, that Mollie was a reckless, sadistic little bastard. She'd want to gloat. Second, Mollie didn't know about her mercenary funds. "You're selling us out?"

"Like you haven't already!" Mollie waved her rifle at her. "You get my brother killed, then you got cozy with the son of a bitch Corona bastard that killed him! Now everyone's talking about how they want Tara gone and you've got Finch talking to some mercs!"

"If you would let me speak…" She began untaping the pistol.

"I heard you shot Carmen yourself."

_She capped her lipstick, passed her SMG to Mira. "Better you than that lowlife…"_

"You're destroying the only real leadership we have." She fought to keep her voice level. Mollie wanted to see her afraid. She wanted to hear her beg for her life. She wouldn't beg, but she could still negotiate.

"Tara's twice the leader you'd be! She wanted to hunt down the asshole that killed Gabe, then you talk to her and she…"

"Katya," she said, making eye contact with the blonde, "did your new friend tell you that Tara's planning on burning your shops in two days?" Katya stepped back and lowered her gun almost imperceptibly. Her dark eyes looked between Mira and Mollie.

"She's lying! She's a two faced bitch! Don't believe…"

"I'm lying?" she said, crossing her legs and raising an eyebrow. Her pistol was lighter than ever in her lap. The air in the warehouse felt still and clear, like the iced vodka Carmen used to drink. There was a kind of collected energy in her, a stillness just under her ribs, all of it focused on one single crystal clear thought.

_I will not die here._

"Did you tell them you know the combination for the safe? It's right over there." She pointed with the lit cigarette to the safe on the far wall. "Go ahead. Try it out." Mollie snarled. The man, she wracked her brain for a name but nothing came to her, looked at her with disgust.

"I'll get in! Even if I have to pull it out of you with a fucking car battery! Even if I have to break it open!"

"You do it without the combination, it'll set off the bomb." It was a bluff, but Mollie had never been close enough to the safe to know that. Katya lowered her gun. "You tell them I'm worth more alive than dead?"

There were still three guns trained on her and Mollie wasn't going to let her walk out of here alive.

"You're not worth shit alive!" Mollie snapped. "Everything in this warehouse! Everything we have! It's all theirs so long as you're dead!"

"We have more than this," she said, leaning back in her chair. She watched smoldering ashes fall from her cigarette. The other girl's gun lowered almost imperceptibly. "You didn't tell them that did you?"

"Why would I? I'm a loyal…"

"If you were loyal, we wouldn't be here," she said. "I've done more for the Reds than you'll ever know." She brought her cigarette to her lips and felt the smoke fill her mouth. "There's twelve K here in the safe, eight in the duffle bag in the rafters, along with several fake IDs." The man looked up, one of the straps hung over the side of the I-beam. "There's another twenty-three in a bank account under the name Mary Read. It's all yours so long as she's dead."

"And as a show of good faith…" She slid her pistol across the floor and gunfire rang out. Mollie was always a terrible shot.

Slowly, she got up from her desk and made her way over to what was left of Mollie. There were still three of them and she'd never been popular with Parallax.

"We had a deal Shepard," the man said, reloading and turning his gun on her.

"So we did," she said, poking her mangled neck with her sneaker. She swallowed bile as she saw the bits of her face scattered around the floor. She took another smoke to steady her nerves. "Just making sure you kept up your end."

"Where's our codes?" Katya said. Her voice was shaking almost as badly as her hands. The other woman had already started climbing the wall after the duffle.

"Safe's 38-18-50," she said, she said, stepping back and wiping blood off her shoe. "You'll get the account when you're out the door."

"How do we know you're not gonna bolt?" the man said.

"There's three of you and one of me. Where am I going to go?" she said, taking measured breaths and willing her heart to stop racing. She couldn't let them see her fear. If she did, she was as good as dead. She straightened her posture and took as unwavering a voice as she had. "You'll get the information as soon as you leave."

Katya and the man lowered their weapons. She stood still as a statue as the man raided the safe and the other woman scrambled down with the bag. She watched them coolly, folded her hands behind her back and stared down her nose as they counted it out.

"It's all here," the man said and they packed up to leave. "Send it to Sydney." He pointed to the climber. On their way out, Katya helped herself to the stims she kept in her drawer.

She staggered back to her desk in a drunken line. She reached out for the edge for support, but missed as she collapsed, nearly splitting her lip. Her hands were shaking almost too badly to coherently type the account information as she curled against the cold metal of the desk.

Parallax wouldn't keep quiet. Not after all she'd done. No way the Reds' would take her back. The police would find her body in the sound by the end of the week.

She'd given them everything. The Reds' money, her go bag, the mercenary fund. She'd done so much work. Now it was all gone.

She would have to run. She would have to make sure nobody would chase her.

She looked around the warehouse, caught sight of the generator and the gasoline. She looked to the corpse. Mollie was shorter than her, more muscular, but she would do.

She tried to breathe, think out her next steps. She'd made backup plans.

She had papers, letters of recommendation, records, but no acceptances yet and no money even if she did.

She could figure it out later when she was safe. Now, she had to get out of here before someone found her. She could worry about money later, lift a few wallets tomorrow morning and buy a bus ticket to the other side of the continent, then figure things out.

She took her papers from the desk and carefully folded them into her pocket and zipped it shut.

The lid on the gas can stuck, but she wrenched it open. It was lighter than she thought as she dragged it back and forth across the warehouse floor.

She slipped away into the night while her old life burned behind her. She didn't look back.

**_X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X_ **

"Zaeed," she said, leveling her shruiken at his head. "You have a choice. I can take your other eye and leave you here to burn."

"Fuck you Shepard," he growled, straining under the beam. The madness in his eyes had dimmed.

"Let me speak," she said. In her own way, she liked Zaeed. He was, for the most part, practical and right now, she liked anybody who was more loyal to money than they were to Cerberus. Still, she wouldn't lose any more sleep over it if she had to make good on her threats.

"I can let you burn," she continued. "Or you can remember that you're a part of a team. If you follow my orders, if you're honest with me, if you can put this behind you for long enough to get the mission done, I'll get you out of here. If you come with me, when this is all over, you'll have access to Cerberus resources and the skillsets of some of the best operatives in the galaxy. It's up to you Zaeed."

The look in his eyes now was one she'd likely worn herself more than a few times. Bright, burning determination. He was like her, stubborn enough to survive just about anything.

_I will not die here._

"Alright Shepard. I see your point," he said. She lifted the beam and helped him to his feet.


	7. Way Hey and Up She Rises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Mira Shepard sees a psychiatrist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, this chapter was supposed to be the Kasumi chapter, but that needs some more editing and there’s a lot of things I don’t like about it right now. Fortunately, I have enough lower decks episodes ready to go that I can make up for that, so instead you get Shepard getting schwifty with the Doc. 
> 
> Also, I hate titles. I hate titles so much. This one’s from What do you do with a Drunken Sailor.

“Is there any particular reason why I can’t requisition Polonium rounds?” she said, looking back to her spreadsheet. She’d set aside almost twenty thousand credits for that particular ammo and was not looking forwards to redoing the week’s budget if she couldn’t order it.

“Giving enemy combatants radiation poisoning was deemed a cruel and unusual tactic by the council,” Jacob said, not looking away from her dented Mantis barrel.

“I understand that,” she said. “I did my research and have read through their amendments to various disarmament treaties. I understand fully why I would be unable to order them on an Alliance vessel in council space, but the fact remains that this is a Cerberus ship in the Terminus systems…”

“Shepard get to your point so I can finish fixing this,” he said. “I’m still trying to figure out how you did this kneecapping a mech.”

“Unless I have been very misinformed about this organization, Cerberus doesn’t play by the Council’s rules,” she said. “And all details regarding the mission on Neith are in my report.” There were more mechs than expected, they ran out of ammo and had to get creative. It was a combination of bad luck and not knowing her own strength that led to it being her gun rather than Garrus or Zaeed’s that bit it.

“Off the record? Miranda doesn’t want easily concealed radioactive materials onboard,” he replied. Dr. Solus had a case of Thorium in his lab. Lawson didn’t want _her_ to have easily concealed radioactive materials. As if she would use something so easily traced.

“I see,” she said, leaning on the bench and closing the spreadsheet. The next time they were on Omega, she was going to have extensive negotiations with arms smugglers.

**_X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X_ **

“Thank you so much for agreeing to meet with me Commander,” Chambers said, leading her into the port lounge.

“The pleasure’s mine,” she said, following close behind. Her folders were clasped tightly against her leg. She still had to fix the budget to account for black market ammo. She did not have time for a half-assed psych eval, but she might be able to salvage something out of it if she could control the conversation.

Chambers started to settle onto the couch nearest to the door and Shepard stopped in her tracks. She glanced around, the chair and coffee table were just where she and Garrus left them last night. 

“Kelly, if it isn’t too much trouble, would you sit there?” She gestured to the chair. “It makes me uncomfortable when there’s somebody between me and an exit.”

“Alright,” Chambers said, getting up and swapping chairs. 

Mira took the couch. From her spot just off of the center, she could see almost everything about Chambers reflected in the window. Adding windows to the ship may not have been as terrible an idea as she’d originally thought. She could ignore the gnawing dread if it meant she could escape.

“Miranda asked me to evaluate you after you launched our entire probe bay at Uranus,” Chambers said, shifting in the chair.

“Really?” she asked, leaning back and spreading her arms. “May I speak frankly?”

“Of course Commander. We’re all friends here,” Chambers said.

“You’re not my friend Chambers. You’re supposed to be my counselor,” she said. If she was anybody else, she expected she would have felt like she was kicking a puppy upon seeing the look on Chamber’s face. “I expect you to keep the same professional distance from me as I do from you. Now, where was I…”

Chambers set her datapad down on her lap.

“When we entered the Sol system, I was presented with an opportunity,” she said. “I took it.”

“So you did it because it was funny?”

“There is nothing funny about probing Uranus. It was a horribly immature stunt that I would have expected out of somebody like Joker rather than myself,” she said. Each probe hurt her almost as much as it hurt Cerberus. “I wanted to see if anybody had the authority to stop me. The only one who said anything was the computer.”

It did however somewhat assuage her doubts as to whether Lawson was telling the truth about the control chip because there was no way in hell that she would let her do something so phenomenally stupid if she was able to stop it.

“If that will be all, I need to get back to my budgets…” she said, taking her folders and starting to stand up. If she didn’t get the codes this way, she could always stare over Chambers’ shoulder until she figured it out.

“You’re not eating, you’re not sleeping, and you’re showing signs of paranoia…” Chambers said, leaning forwards, but not touching her datapad. She pursed her lips and glared at Chambers, but sat back down. Mira would have to give her something more worthy of record than a childish stunt if she wanted the codes.

“Am I really paranoid if you really are listening to everything I say and watching everything I do?” She leaned forwards and stared just to the left of Chamber’s head. The datapad’s screen was reflected in the window. Not perfectly, not by a longshot, but it was better than blindly guessing at her codes.

“Cerberus is only monitoring behavior as standard security procedure. It was the same on your Alliance vessels,” she said.

“True,” she admitted. “But you have to understand, while I’m not naive enough to think of the Systems’ Alliance as a monolith of all that is good and just…” Cerberus’ origins were proof enough of that and she’d done enough of the Alliance’s dirty work to know better. “…the fact remains that until recently, Cerberus was the enemy.”

“Do you want to understand why I don’t trust your organization?” She stared ahead as Chambers started to type in her codes. “How much do you know about my history with Cerberus?” She leaned forwards and folded her hands in her lap. The air in the room was like the calm before the storm.

“You destroyed several rogue facilities and sold data to the Shadow Broker,” Chambers said. “They weren’t the real Cerberus though, the Illusive Man said they were splinter groups and we’re not like that at all. We want to _help_ humanity and I want to help you.”

“Admiral Kohoku wanted to help his men,” she said. “Instead, they died like my squad on Akuze and do you know what happened to him when he tried to find out why they died? Forgive me if when I found his body in the middle of a swarm of Rachni I found myself disinclined to sympathize with Cerberus. Then I asked myself what the Binthu facilities all had in common…You seem to have a high opinion of the Illusive Man. Ask him why he’s so interested in mind control.”

“This mission is different,” Chambers insisted, looking at her with concern. “We’re going to stop the Collectors from destroying humanity. After all you’ve done, you’re a hero, an inspiration to the whole galaxy. Isn’t this something you can believe in?” The woman sounded too much like Liara for her comfort.

Their only evidence was a grainy, unfocused video, a traumatized Quarian, and a Vorcha. Video could be altered. Trauma did funny things to people’s memory. That virus was well within Cerberus’ capabilities to engineer. She could ride out the silence that followed far longer than Chambers.

“You mentioned Akuze,” Chambers said, typing up her notes. “Are you comfortable talking about that?” If Chambers knew the whole story, there was nothing else she could say about it. If she didn’t, then Mira had an opportunity to obtain the footage for herself, but she would have to make Chambers want to get it for her.

“It was four…” No, six. “Six years ago.” Her shoulder ached and she had to look away from the window. “I’ve dealt with it, at least before Toombs, I thought I….on Ontorom, Doctor Wayne said you had tapes. Have you seen them yet?”

“I don’t have clearance on that particular project,” Chambers said.

She waited a moment, let her face fall, stared at her hands, then said in a soft voice, “If you want to help, you’ll ask for clearance.”

**_X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X_ **

It’d been a long time since she drank like this. Feeling her tight control slipping was enough to stop her after one or two. It felt different with Chakwas, familiar almost. Maybe because she wasn’t alone in her quarters trying to throw down enough whiskey to numb the final indignity Akuze threw at her. Maybe because she’d lost track of how much she’d had to drink, yet felt little more than buzzed.

She brought the brandy by to thank the doctor for saving Garrus. Cracking it open had been Chakwas’ idea. She initially refused, she was at work. As informal as Cerberus tried to be, it was still work and Chakwas was still Cerberus. She checked over Toombs after Ontarom and examined Admiral Kohoku’s body and she was still Cerberus.

On the Normandy, she would have said no and meant it, but then again, on the Normandy she’d never wanted for companionship. Here, she was reminded of the Cerberus mind control experiments on Binthu every time she so much as thought about a hot cup of coffee. Perhaps in the months spent chasing Saren, she’d grown too fond of company.

So she sent out a shipwide memo stating that she was to be considered off duty for the evening and to see Garrus Vakarian with any and all non-essential matters.

They sat in the med bay, Doctor Chakwas poured drinks, and they talked. She tried to keep it neutral, work related topics only. Chakwas reprimanded her for doing her own stitches in the clinic on Omega. She reviewed the mission on Zorya.

Gradually, work turned to coworkers. The bugs were on and the cameras still rolling. She knew better than to insult her captors outright, but bitterness crept in and paired with the brandy like cabernet and chocolate. 

“Lawson thinks she’s smarter than me.” The brandy’s bouquet had notes of pepper and dried cherries.

“Is she?” The doctor sipped her brandy.

“I’m going to find out.” She savored the delicate warmth and found that oak and cherries did in fact pair well with bitter notes.

“I take it you’re happy to see Garrus on board.” The doctor poured again. She shouldn’t have taken another measure, but found it curious that she was less disoriented than usual after two drinks.  Testing her new limits would be a worthwhile experiment. “First thing when he woke up, kept asking if you were really alive instead of a dying hallucination.”

“I didn’t believe it was him on Omega either.” She knew she’d been irrational, but she had to be suspicious of anybody who willingly served on a Cerberus vessel. Even for her sake

Slowly, new people turned to old and she didn’t have it in her to stop Chakwas from reliving the Normandy and their finest hours.  

“I talked to Pressley about pirates once,” she admitted, rubbing her glass with her thumb. She’d only done it once, after stealing the Normandy, but she was delighted to find someone who shared her enthusiasm. They commandeered a naval vessel and went off to be big damn heroes, exciting didn’t even begin to cover it. “The ones from old earth, Black Beard, Ching Shih, Teuta of Illyria…”

The names sounded almost foreign without one of her identities to back it up. 

“You know he was thinking of buying a sail boat when he retired?” The doctor poured another round and they toasted to Pressley.

Talking about old friends almost brought out questions she was trying to bury. Instead, she kept drinking and asked if Chakwas remembered the time Joker patched the Council through to the wrong extension and Williams was almost finished reciting The Hollow Men at them before they hung up.

“This is the way the world ends,” she said. Drops of bright blue liquid clung to the side of the glass as Chackwas poured again. She found that one ghost never failed to chase away another.

They toasted old friends, fallen comrades, the Normandy, new beginnings, the damn prison ship (Chakwas called it Normandy, she refused), and the success of their mission. She knew she was being watched, recorded, and later analyzed by some junior Cerberus operative, but she was starved enough for close companionship that she could let it slide for one night.

“I thought Alenko’s biotics display might’ve broken Jenkins’ back,” she said, leaning back and pointing at Shepard. Even if she wasn’t as drunk as she should have been, her jaw hung open in horror. Chakwas leapt out of her seat with more agility than she would have thought possible. “Then he pops back right back up and says, “That was awesome!”

“I don’t understand how they could have…how didn’t I know about…” Perhaps she’d been too worried about Nihlus and the shakedown to notice, maybe she’d been too concerned with Hackett’s offer.   

“There were a lot people on the Normandy looking to get one over on XO-Bot Model Shepard…” That aggravating nickname followed her from the Jakarta to the Tokyo, then to the Normandy.   

“Here’s to Jenkins, fool me once, commendations to you,” she said, raising her glass.

“Soldiers like him make the Alliance great,” Chakwas said, settling back into her seat. “Cerberus lacks the same enthusiasm.”

She’d lost track of how much she’d had and questions were dancing on her lips again. This time, the brandy burned a hearth fire deep in her and even though she hadn’t felt safe since Alchera, it made her feel brave. Like she could walk right up to Lawson and tell her and this entire damn organization where they could shove their suicide mission.

Kaidan always did that to her. Sometimes, she marveled at how he could make her, a self-admitted and avowed dirty coward, feel brave. She rationalized that it would be more suspicious of she asked after everyone but him. The words still had to fight their way out and she stumbled over them when she asked.

“How’s Kaidan doing?” With three words, she went from feeling like she could take on the world to like she’d torn her stitches again. It had only been a few weeks for her, but she missed him more than she had any right to. She could box it back up when she was done here, put it away and forget about it like the vacation she always said she’d take.

“Commander Alenko was doing well last I saw him,” she said. “Seemed like he’d finally made peace with your death.” She took a sip of her brandy and tried to bottle up her relief. “He’d be the Alliance’s new poster boy if not for that thing with the Volus mafia.”

She nearly spat her drink. Instead, she swallowed wrong and barely managed to choke out, “The what?”

“An away team of his had a run-in with the Volus Mafia. I never got the details, but the best I heard of it was, ‘He pulled a Shepard on them’.” She told herself that the warmth spreading through her was due to the brandy finally kicking in rather than the thought of Kaidan using her tactics against the mafia. “You know, he really loved you.”

“He was a good friend,” she said, swirling the last few drops of her drink around her glass. It was almost muscle memory at this point. There was no point to denying it, Cerberus knew, but old habits were harder to kill than she was.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” she said. “I’ve been a ship’s doctor most of my life. I’ve learned to tell when people are playing fast and loose with regulations.”

“Glad to know that years of covert ops training didn’t go to waste,” she muttered.  She almost didn’t notice when Chakwas gave her a refill. “Why didn’t you say anything to command?”

Even if her own ethics skewed towards making sure her bills were paid, she was capable of recognizing a serious breach of ethics when she committed it. At the time, they were happy enough with a few stolen moments that it felt like it didn’t matter.

“I wanted to speak to you about it first, was going to bring it up while we were hunting for Geth outposts, but then Alchera…”

Chakwas trailed off and Shepard kept swirling her cup. The doctor stared at her with a mixture of concern and nostalgia. The doctor could have had any posting she wanted, but she chose to join Cerberus. Perhaps it wasn’t for the sake of sticking it to the Alliance.

“Why’d you really leave?”

“Maybe it’s less about leaving and more about staying…” She let the doctor speak this time, about wanting stability and the sense of normalcy that treating Joker and this ship, even if it was a cheap copy, gave.

“…or hell, maybe it’s you. Shepard, our immovable center, a place for a person to stop and catch her breath. Or maybe I’m just happily drunk.”  She could certainly drink to that.

“Here’s to simply being happily drunk.” If whatever Cerberus had done to her would let her be.

Chakwas passed out in her chair a few minutes later. She finished the last of her drink while staring at the blinking light of the AI core lock. She was alone in the med bay, nearly entirely sober, and the lock was so inviting, just like the one in life support. Locks were made to be either bypassed or picked.

The least secure point in any computer system was the server. If she could get into the AI core, she could shut down that annoying AI or at least get some useful data out of it.

Cerberus knew all about her history. They had her psych files. If they didn’t want her to get into the AI core, or life support, or the cargo holds, then they shouldn’t have locked them.

Lawson and Jacob found her ten minutes later sitting on the floor with her bypass program open on her omni-tool and an almost empty bottle of brandy on the table. Cerberus didn’t need to know she was almost sober.

“Come on commander,” Jacob said, gently taking her arm and helping her to her feet. “I think you’ve had enough for one night.”

“No,” she said, stumbling back into one of the exam tables. She was already mentally drafting an apology email to both Jacob and Lawson. “No, no. Doc’s gotta go to bed first. She keeps sayin’ I don’t sleep in chairs…”

“You put the doctor to bed,” Lawson said, rolling her eyes. “I’ll make sure the commander didn’t give herself alcohol poisoning.”

“Not poison,” she slurred. “Hid it the whole time. Gardner couldn’t get to it…” Lawson took her arm in a gentle, but firm grip and turned her to leave the med bay. “But the doc…” she turned the rest of the way around and stumbled towards Chakwas.

“This is exactly why I wanted the control chip,” Lawson muttered. She nearly fell into Jacob as he lifted Chakwas. Lawson hadn’t been lying about the chip. Lawson took her arm again and said, “Doctor Chakwas is being taken care of Shepard. Don’t worry.”

“I gotta worry,” she said, leaning into Lawson as they left the med-bay. She may have been a terrorist, but she had great smelling hair. Like roses and sandalwood. “Bad things happen when I don’t…I die…”

“You shouldn’t be this drunk…” Lawson said, guiding her towards the elevator. “I don’t understand how…Wilson!”  

“It’s a lotta hard work bein’ in charge,” she said. “Gotta cut loose sometimes.” She started to stagger towards the battery.

“Where are you…”

“See if Garrus is still up,” she said. “Thought he was with you, gotta apologize for that.” Lawson grabbed her again, this time much less gently. “I’m an adult Lawson, can take care of myself.”

“Right now, you couldn’t take care of a goldfish,” she said, pushing the elevator door open.

 


	8. We Provide Leverage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Mira Shepard goes and steals some memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah. Not gonna lie. Out of every single mission I’ve ever played in Mass Effect, Stealing Memory is my favorite. It is the best, most fun mission they’ve designed and I love it. I really wish I could do it justice. I tried, I’m still not entirely happy with this, but it has to come before other chapters on account of reasons, so it’s going up this week. Thank you to everybody who’s reviewed or favorited or anything else! The title’s from the opening monologue from Leverage.

“Alison Gunn?” she said, closing the file and raising an eyebrow at Kasumi. “Was Gabby McStabberson a little too subtle?”

“Where’s your sense of mystique Shepard?” She sounded like she was enjoying this far more than was reasonable and she was grinning like a Krogan with a new shotgun.  “Besides, Eddie Teach doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue now does it?”

“Would have been Sayyida again.” Eddie was burned in this system as a result of an assignment that almost went very wrong involving a rookie field operative, stolen intel, a half mile sprint in high heels, and ceviche puffs. “Which reminds me, exactly how high end is this party?”

“All the big names in galactic crime are going to be there, the head of Eclipse, some gun runners, smugglers, a couple heads of small, independent factions, your friend Vido would have been here had it not been for your intervention…”

“Anybody who would have been at Bekenstein fashion week eight…no ten.” She clenched her teeth and muttered, “Ten years…”

“Nobody important.” She opened her purse and took out her makeup again. She doubted anybody would think of a beleaguered assistant when they saw her, but a little additional contouring wouldn’t help the comparison. “What did you do at fashion week?”

“I’m not at liberty to discuss that. If you really must know, ask your employer for the files.” There was also no good way to explain using a feather boa to restrain a bioterrorist.

“Suit yourself Shep, but I will find out. Any more questions about the plan?”

She would rather have posed as a member of the catering staff. Nobody noticed a waiter, they could go places guests couldn’t, and they access to boning knives. But, according to Kasumi it was all in house. It would take more time than they had to construct an identity that would get past the background check.

That didn’t bother her. She’d worked with less and her professional pride was on the line if she couldn’t manage it. There was still something nagging her about this whole situation and it was big, gold, and full of guns. If she was doing her job right, she wouldn’t need guns for this, just a quick tongue and sticky fingers.

“If there’s anything else I need to know about this job, it would be in both of our best interests for you to tell me,” she said, flipping open her mirror. Duller cheekbones would do the trick, play down her nose and eyebrows, maybe an attention grabbing lipstick. “If you like, I can get Zaeed on the coms so you can ask him how I feel about surprises on a mission.”

She’d agreed to help Kasumi steal the greybox. If something as unexpected and annoying as Zorya happened, she was fully prepared to steal the box and leave Kasumi to whatever she got herself into. She was nothing if not a woman of her word.

“There’s a good chance we’ll encounter armed resistance on our way out of Hock’s vault. It never hurts to be prepared,” she said. Throughout the rest of the briefing she’d been sitting with a cat that ate the canary smugness. Now there was a sort of defensive secrecy about her that Mira understood too well to ignore. 

“No way out without a firefight?” Kasumi looked at her forehead rather than her eyes. There was something to this plan she knew Shepard wouldn’t like. Mindless of her still unblended makeup, she pinched her nose. “We’re going to get caught aren’t we?”

“Caught is such an inept way of putting it. If I wanted to Shepard, I could have us into and out of that vault without Hock so much as suspecting we’re in the same cluster,” she said. “I just think we should be prepared.”  

“So your goal is not to kill Hock, just steal back the greybox and humiliate him. If something happens that would require guns and armor, that’s just coincidence,” she said. “In that case, I’m going to stick to my side arm and this lovely dress. Thank you by the way. Valentino?”

She was in no way averse to wasting Cerberus funds by leaving her arms and armor in Hock’s manor. It just meant redoing the budget again and if that meant revisiting her spreadsheets, she was completely in favor of it.

“Please. I have better taste than that. It’s an Abarca original, stole it right off the model,” she replied. “And I would be very disappointed if you got bullet holes in it. If I tell you I want that bastard dead, will you restrain yourself from ruining it?”

No matter the plan, Kasumi was offering her a chance to work. Cerberus was giving her a chance to work. They wanted to see what she could do, if Operative Mira Shepard hadn’t been buried and forgotten under Commander Mira Shepard. She couldn’t let them. As distasteful as the thought of getting caught on a job was, it was better in the long run.

“Thank you for trusting me,” she said, checking her profile in the mirror. “I won’t let you down.”

“I would never be able to do this without Cerberus you know. Their funds, their resources, it’s all going to…” She needed Kasumi loyal to her, not to Cerberus.

“I promise, I’m going to bring Keiji back to you,” she said, flipping her compact shut with a satisfying click. She turned to Kasumi and grinned. “Now, let’s go steal some memories.” 

**_X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X_ **

“Ramon Uzan,” she said, holding a champagne flute out to the arms dealer. “Alison Gunn, a pleasure to meet you in person.”

“Charmed Ms. Gunn,” he said, taking the offered champagne. “Might I ask, is that your real name?”

“Well wouldn’t you like to know,” she said, a playful, cocky grin spreading across her face. “I’ve heard you’re the man to talk to if one is in the market for unusual arms.” 

“Shepard! I told you not to talk business!” Kasumi said through her earpiece. She would remind her later that she agreed not to talk business with Hock.

“Then you should have heard that I never mix business and pleasure,” Ulaz said.

“I assure you, this is nothing but pleasure.” She sipped her champagne and looked out at Hock’s grounds. “An associate of mine is of the opinion that it’s impossible to get polonium rounds onto the citadel. I’m prepared to pay handsomely to see the look on her face when she realizes she’s wrong.”

She let the diamonds in her bracelet catch the last few rays of the sun. She wouldn’t miss it. It was an easy lift from an open purse. She’d taken a few pieces just like it from coat check. Small karats, all synthetic, serial numbers already laser etched off. Stealing from criminals was like taking candy from a bunch of overly confident babies.

“If I heard wrong, then I do apologize for wasting your time and your peace of mind,” she said. “If not,” she unclipped the bracelet and palmed it, “there’s a quarrian run salvage yard on Omega with a package for you. Tell Kenn Frances Drake sent you.”

She would have to make a note of this to ensure than Kenn had a package for Ulaz if he did decide to sell to her, but it would be worth it in the end.

She held out her hand and a thrill went through her as he took it. “Here’s to our pleasure Ms. Gunn,” he said.

“May we know nothing but.” They drank to their new partnership and by the time he looked back at her, she’d already slipped away into the crowd. With her detour taken care of, she had a job to do.

She’d already cut the power, albeit reluctantly. Getting the voice print would be the easy part. Men like Hock liked to hear the sound their own voice. DNA would have been easier if she posed as staff, just take an empty glass from him. As it was, she could break into his quarters and make off with a hair sample from a pillow case. It would just be more difficult. Getting the password on the other hand would require a deft touch, Kasumi’s cloak, and a serving tray.

She clipped another bracelet to her wrist, imitation sapphires this time. Not good enough to fool a trained eye, but an underpaid security guard was another story.

“Kasumi, meet me by security,” she whispered. “If you can manage it, bring me a tray of those prosciutto wrapped figs.” Most of it was for a bribe, but the hors d'oeuvres were the first thing she’d eaten in a day in a half. She still wasn’t sure she could rely on Solus’ drug free assessment of the food on the ship.

She let Kasumi hack the outer door, took the food, slipped a few into a baggie in her purse for later, and she explained her plan. She would distract the guards for a few minutes while Kasumi went around cloaked, found the password, and stole anything that wasn’t nailed down, then the nails just for good measure. Simple and straight forward.

There were two security guards. The older one looked like ex-military. He already had his pistol trained on her when she entered the room. 

“Relax boys,” she said, striding towards the desk. “I used to work security. I know how boring monitor duty gets, especially when you’ve got to watch a party like this, I figured I’d bring something by.”

“You’re not authorized to be in here ma’am,” he said. His pistol didn’t move an inch. He’d hit her center mass before she had a chance to reach for her holster.

“You’re right,” she said, setting down the tray and unfastening her bracelet. The younger guard stared at it as it sparkled. “I’m not authorized. Not yet anyway. Your boss made me and my crew an offer. I can make it worth your while if you can tell me if Hock will make it worth mine.”

“We’re not at liberty to…”

“The hours suck and we can’t even browse the extranet!” The older guard turned towards him and moved like he was about to smack him upside the head.

“And the pay?”

“I’ve already told you, we’re not at liberty to discuss this. I’m only going to tell you one more time, leave or I’ll make you leave ms…”

“Lawson. Miranda Lawson.” Kasumi tapped her shoulder. Their work here was done. She took a pen from in front of the younger guard. “Tell you what, I’ll give you my email. Contact me with anything…” She gave the younger guard a long, slow wink.    “…anything, you think I should know about working for your organization.”

She turned and left the room, slipped back into the crowd, and started towards Hock’s quarters.

“The pass word’s Peruggia. Fitting. He’s one of the men that stole the Mona Lisa,” Kasumi said.

“Fascinating,” she replied. “Anything that’ll help get me into Hock’s rooms?”

“I’ve got an idea,” Kasumi replied. “Tell him Chief Roe sent you. I’m going to tap into the guard’s communications. Security had a datapad with a voice message I can use.”

It was certainly better than bribing another guard.

As she stepped into Hock’s rooms, she felt a familiar calm. She knew what she needed to do. She knew how to do it. She knew what would happen if she got caught. Her hands were steady, her heartbeat slow. Tension, stillness, all the energy in her focused and contained.

Cups were good for DNA samples. So were pillows or couch cushions and dust was mostly skin cells. She had to give Hock’s cleaning crew credit, they weren’t going to make her job easy, but she could get it done.

She handed Kasumi a wine glass, wiped down some of his antique weapons for the dust, took a few loose credit chits, then went to work on his wall safe and took his decryption work for good measure. It wasn’t as if Hock was going to need any of it in the near future.

Besides, if she could take his decryption software and improve upon it, it could be valuable. From what she could see of his code, it wasn’t good for much other than a greybox and it wasn’t finished yet, but a program that could crack a greybox would be worth a lot of money to some very unscrupulous people.

They had the pass codes, they had DNA, they’d cut the power, there was just one last thing to worry about and it was standing right by the fountain.

“Ah Donovan Hock, the man of the hour. Lovely party, the ceviche puffs are to die for.” Hopefully this time not literally.

“Ms. Gunn. I hope you’re having a good time,” he said, shaking her hand. “That scene at the door hasn’t soured your evening I hope.”

“I understand the security,” she said. “But who would dare to break into Donovan Hock’s home?” His eyes gleamed and he almost scowled. She had him. 

“Gunn, in our line of work, we attract a certain element. Few understand the pains we take to keep the barbarians at bay…”

The moment she met Hock she knew that damn accent would throw her. She’d spend half the time he was talking trying to figure out where the hell that accent was from and not listen to what he had to say. That would make conversation difficult. She got lucky this time as she didn’t need to respond to anything he had to say, just smile and nod like the shoot first, ask questions later merc she’d been set up as.

She hoped Kasumi was recording because she’d had to listen to quite a few speeches in her time, and this one ranked pretty high up there in terms of annoyance. Certainly not as bad as that Batarian general, but up there nonetheless if only because of his voice. Even indoctrinated, Saren had been a better monologist.

“…This party is for us. The cleaners. The support structure for the Galaxy’s gleeful delusions of peace.”

“Alright Shep. I’ve got what I need. You can cut loose whenever you’re ready.” She was ready moment Hock opened his mouth.

“It’s been nice speaking with you,” she said, starting to turn away from Hock. “I should go.”

She felt almost a little lightheaded as she walked away. There was a tingling in her fingers and stillness in her stomach. It seemed a pity to waste her high on a job where she would invariably get caught. 

They had everything they needed to get into the vault. Now she just had to suit up while Kasumi disabled security.

“You know,” she said, locking her gloves into place. “It’s a real shame we had to cut the power to the barrier. I heard great things about the EX-700’s laser matrix. I haven’t been up against a good laser matrix in years…”

“You sound like you really miss it Shep.” Kasumi said, waving her Omni-tool in front of the cameras. “You could probably set one up in the cargo bay.”

“It’s not the same,” she said, running diagnostics on her CO2 scrubbers. “Getting through a matrix when there’s no stakes is just…well it’s just wrong.” There was no tension, no thrill, no steady all-encompassing calm. There was no hit or release when she did it right.

“You’d make a good thief you know,” she said, leading the way into the vault. “I could teach you.”

“I’d like that.” She double checked the statue to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything, then followed Kasumi deeper into the vault.

“I mean you’re a decent grifter,” she said. Kasumi started to bypass the lock to the main vault. “But your skills and what I can teach you…you’d be a real terror to unleash on the galaxy. The Alliance was wasting you as a soldier.”

Kasumi didn’t need to tell her that twice, but nobody needed to know she thought that. As much as she disliked Cerberus, they were letting her work and she missed it. First the mercs before she got to Garrus and now this. She thought she’d never do it again. When she joined the Spectres, she thought she’d get another chance. Instead, they put her in front of the cameras again, nearly completely defanged her, and sent her off after the geth. If they wanted her to do her job, they’d have let her disappear.

“Wow, this is Hock’s vault,” Kasumi said. “It’s bigger than I imagined.”

She almost stopped in her tracks when she saw the vault. The statues, the paintings, all of it parts of history, all of it unique, invaluable. Things that should be studied and enjoyed, not locked up in a vault and horded. She would have loved to hear the story behind getting the Statue of Liberty’s head or Michelangelo’s David, but she’d seen enough of the Prothean statues to last a lifetime and she was definitely going to have to ask Garrus to explain Turian art.

“You think this would fit in the lounge?” she said, reaching out to touch the five thousand year old sandstone of an Egyptian bust. She turned around to check with Kasumi and then her gaze settled on something so wonderful it outshone everything else in the room. “Is that…”

She broke away from the statue and nearly vaulted the display on the floor below.

“Yes Shepard, it’s a Kassa Locust,” Kasumi said. She sounded oddly short, maybe on account of the greybox next to the Locust.

 “That’s not just _a_ Kassa Locust,” she said, picking it up and examining it. It was just like she remembered, light weight, gorgeous, fit in her hands like it was made for her. “This is _the_ Kassa Locust.”

When she handed it over to evidence, she’d almost had to peel every finger off of it. That anarchist cell didn’t know they had a piece of shadow ops history in their arsenal. She didn’t even want to know what Hock had done to get it. She was never letting it out of her sight again.

The dust around the gun formed an almost perfect outline. She started to wipe it off the barrel as Kasumi slowly approached the display case.

“Oh my god, I…I almost can’t believe it. I never thought I’d get this back…” Kasumi murmured, scanning the greybox and starting to decrypt the contents.

“Don’t bother Ms. Goto.” She whipped around to face the voice and at the end of the vault was a floor to ceiling hologram of Donovan Hock. “It’s code locked. I had a feeling it was you at the door and I knew that if it was you, you’d get in anyway.”

“You know me,” Kasumi said. She picked up the greybox and tucked it away in her pocket. “I don’t like to disappoint.”

“I need what’s in your greybox Kasumi.” She still couldn’t place that accent and it bothered her deeply. “You know I’m willing to kill you for it.” She almost added that Hock didn’t even make the list of scariest people who tried to kill her. “I’ll admit your skills are impressive, you got into my vault like I left it open…”

His voice annoyed her and the Locust was feather light in her hands, practically asking to do its job. She needed to test it anyway, see if it was still any good after years gathering dust. Besides, she needed Hock angry. Angry people made mistakes.

“…But you’re still going to die screaming…” Ceramics flew and she relished the craftsmanship that went into the suppressor. The only noise came from the shattering of a vase worth more than she would likely make in a lifetime.

**_X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X_ **

She didn’t think she was supposed to see this. She didn’t particularly want to see a good portion of it. Every time she watched another moment between Keiji and Kasumi, she felt like she was intruding in an unfamiliarly negative way.  She was used to knowing things she wasn’t supposed to, but this seemed too intimate.

Yet the information mixed in with Keiji’s memories was invaluable to her.

She was going to get out of this mess and she would have to avoid terrorism, desertion, and she could only imagine what other charges when she did. She would need leverage to work out a deal with the Alliance. The information she could get from Cerberus would only be the start. She would have to make herself far too valuable to execute or imprison. 

It would take a while to convince Kasumi to let her work with this information and even longer to decrypt it. Yet whatever was in it could implicate the Alliance, therefore it could save her.

She saw only flashes while Kasumi went through his memories. There was a Hanar, Alliance soldiers, nothing she could recognize. Nothing she could use to dig deeper.

Kasumi held the hologram like he was really there, reached up to touch his face. Mira could only hope she ignored his urgings to destroy the box.  She pointedly looked away from the scene in the middle of the transport and towards the pictures around them, searching for something, anything she could use.

Then she saw the reaper. Whatever else was in this greybox, whatever she could hold over the Alliance for her own life, they would never believe it, and if she couldn’t use it, she couldn’t risk Cerberus or others getting hold of it.

Kasumi had to destroy it. Whatever else was in this box, it had to go.

“Goodbye Kasumi, I love you.” The hologram blinked off and they were alone in the shuttle again.

“You need to destroy it,” she said, taking Kasumi’s hands in hers. “I know it hurts, but this information…if it gets out it could ruin everything humanity is working for.”

“You don’t understand Shepard. These memories, they’re all I have of him,” she said, looking back to the greybox. 

“They’re not in the box,” she said. Kasumi stepped away from her and looked down. “If you keep this, the Alliance, men like Hock, even Cerberus, they’re going to chase you until they get this information. He wouldn’t want you to put your life at risk for his memories. It’s just like Keiji said, you don’t need an implant to know that he’s with you.”

“It’s like I’m losing him all over again!” Her shoulders slumped and trembled slightly.

“Kasumi,” she laid a hand on her shoulder and the thief leaned away from her. “You loved him, if you didn’t, this wouldn’t hurt, but he’s dead. You’re alive. You’re more than that. You’re brilliant, you’re funny, you’re kind, you’re the best damn thief I’ve ever seen. Don’t throw all of that away. Let me help you let go.”

“I can’t just destroy him Shepard. I worked so hard to get him back…I can’t go through that again.”

“You survived,” she said. Kasumi was like her. She knew fake. If she wanted Kasumi to join her, she would need to give her something real. “You had something beautiful, you found Keiji and he made you feel like everything around you is bathed in perfect summer sun. Sometimes, all you can ask from a love like that is happy memories.”

 The silence of the transport was only broken by Kasumi’s irregular, almost sobbing breathing. “If it makes it easier, I can do it.”

“I…okay. Just get it over with,” she said, stepping away from the console.

“I’m sorry for this Kasumi, I really am.” She stepped up to the console and as she deleted the data, Keiji image dissolved in front of them and the greybox became an empty hunk of hardware again.

 


	9. Just Another Soul for Sale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Which Mira Shepard orchestrates a prison break

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love the music I listened to while writing this. Lots of punk rock. This is quick and short, but I'm about a week behind schedule and I want to get back on track. Mira eventually winds up developing a sort of big sister relationship with Jack that I really enjoy. The title's from the Foo Fighter's Pretender.

“Sir, with all due respect I think it’s time we started to look into finding her another biotic,” Miranda said, tapping her fingers on the quantum entanglement console. “Subject Zero is unstable and before we put her into Purgatory, she took out almost as much of our operations as Shepard.”

“We’ve had this discussion Miranda,” the Illusive Man replied. “She wasn’t our first choice, but…”

“And I understand that, but Shepard’s barely controlled as she is.” There was a lead lined box of polonium sniper ammo sitting in the armory to attest that.

According to Jacob, she’d briefly considered giftwrapping it, tying it up in a bow, and handwriting a little tag. It was just one case, ten rounds, each one incompatible with their rifles, but enough to send Shepard’s message, “ _You have no real authority.”_

Shepard cut her out of any sort of decision making the second she set foot on the Normandy. She kept her out of missions the second she recruited the thief and Miranda knew she’d make good on her veiled threat on Omega if she tried to press the issue. Whatever illusion of command Miranda had left vanished the moment Vakarian woke up.

Despite her superior knowledge of the ship and personnel, Shepard nearly seamlessly replaced her with Garrus, sending any of the crew’s concerns that should have gone to her to the Turian. She was second in command of this project in name only and Shepard went out of her way to make sure she knew it.

The only thing she had any control of anymore was denying her multiple attempts to fire various personnel. Of course, that didn’t stop Shepard from trying to convince Joker to take off from Omega before Chambers was back onboard.

“Giving her Archangel was enough of a mistake, I think we should reconsider Subject Zero,” she said. Shepard was not going to go along with them quietly and if they wanted to keep control, they had to keep her off balance. Garrus was giving her too much balance. She didn’t need the focus that Subject Zero would provide.

“I’ve dealt with the intelligence operatives who missed Archangel’s identity,” he replied, dismissively waving his cigarette. “There will be no more surprises on this mission, but we can manage Vakarian. I never thought that Shepard would come easily.”

They locked her out of half the ship, constantly monitored her, and kept her out of all but the most relevant files, all to keep her distracted and put EDI’s cyber defense suites through their paces. She was going through it too fast. She’d almost bypassed the AI Core lock while drunk, Miranda didn’t want to think about what she could do while sober.

Shepard was a danger to Cerberus when she was outside of their facilities, now she was on a ship full of sensitive data. Miranda wanted a control chip from the beginning. The Illusive Man insisted that Shepard had to choose Cerberus of her own accord.

The Illusive Man was either blind to the blind havoc Shepard could wreak on this ship or he had other plans he was keeping from her.  

Miranda knew she was keeping stockpiles of electronics squirreled away in various parts of the ship. She’d purchased a series of flashdrives from that Quarian on Omega. Shepard obviously thought she was smuggling them in and out in hollowed out thermal clips, but Shepard wasn’t half as clever as she thought she was. However, at least one of them held a copy of that virus from the Hahne-Kedar Facility so she had to be careful if she wanted to confiscate and examine them.

Every order she gave, Shepard either outright ignored or she would hesitate before accepting. There was something hard behind her eyes as she thought it over and Miranda knew that even when she did as ordered, it was only because Shepard wanted to.  Even then, giving Shepard an order was like making a deal with the fae. You’d get exactly what you asked for, but certainly not what you wanted.   

The Illusive Man himself handed down the order to go after their missing operative on Lorek. Shepard responded by telling her that she’d agreed to help with the Collectors and that if Cerberus wanted her to do more, she was nothing if not a woman of her word.

She’d been created to be perfect. She should be able to manage one woman. Yet even with her advantages, she still couldn’t compete with a very determined slum rat.

Cerberus’ initial assessments of then Lieutenant Shepard hadn’t been optimistic. After she escaped Akuze, she’d impressed the Illusive Man enough that he pulled strings to make sure she was assigned to a ship with one of their agents in command. Captain Zabala’s assessment had been a resounding no.

“ _Akuze Subject 36, while unlikely to remain in the Alliance military due to disciplinary issues, should be regarded as wholly unsuitable for recruitment.”_

Zabala had forgotten to include that Shepard’s discipline issues ran more along the lines of gleefully subverting and manipulating regulations, than outright willful disobedience. He’d also forgotten that she was just god awful smug and annoying.

“Sir, I can handle any biotics related issues we encounter in this mission,” she replied. She’d almost been insulted that she didn’t make the list of the Illusive Man’s biotics specialists. “Subject Zero is unnecessary and given her history…We need Shepard sympathetic to us, not another failed prototype.”   

“I have plans for Subject Zero that would be best served if she was tempered. Taking her directly from Purgatory would adversely affect these plans. Allowing Shepard to work on her will be more cost effective in the long run,” he replied. “Miranda, you’re my most valued field operative. I wouldn’t give you such a responsibility if I didn’t think you could handle it.”  

She kept her face neutral. She’d worked too hard to get where she was in this organization to let her frustrations jeopardize everything. The Illusive Man was one of the few who saw her not just for what she was, but for how much effort and dedication she put into everything she did. She owed him her best effort in this.

“I know Sir, but humanity’s safety is at stake and there are risks involved in managing both Shepard and Subject Zero.” It sounded a little too much like an admission that she couldn’t control Shepard for her own comfort, but Miranda would need a contingency plan in case they decided to collaborate.

“Shepard will come to heel eventually. We can rush and break her or we can take our time and let her choose to come to us.  If we break her, she’s of no use to us. If she comes to us willingly though…she could be the best thing I’ve ever created. I’ve taken measures to ensure that she comes willingly.”

**_X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X_ **

“Garrus! Zaeed! Either of you have a plan?” she said. Her cloak dropped. Bullets flew by her head as she ducked behind the desks. She knew out processing looked like an ambush site. She damn well knew it and still she almost walked right into that holding cell.

“I might have something Shepard,” Garrus said, peering through his scope at the guards. “It’s gonna take some work though…”

“Are you thinking of what I think you’re…” She paused reloading her rifle. She’d already had this discussion with him on Presrop. Everyone in the squad had this discussion with him on Presrop.

“I might be.” Two years and he was still fixated on this plan. As fascinating as it would be to see it in action, this was neither the time nor the place and they lacked many of the necessary supplies.

“Everybody on the Normandy agreed that that plan was entirely unreasonable, not to mention illegal in four solar systems, including, somehow, this one!” She checked over her shoulder. A prison break should not involve this many bullets. “Also, where the hell are you going to get a pineapple?”

It wasn’t actually a pineapple, but a spiny fruit from Palavan which the translator implants converted to pineapple. Its seeds were apparently delicious. Its oily flesh on the other hand burned almost as hot as thermite. Its actual name was a complex series of chirps and whistles that had a meaning closer to, “Improvised Bomb.”

“I should have a tube of pineapple nutripaste,” he said. A legionnaire dropped to sniper fire. “It’s harder to ignite, but…”

“No. We’re not doing this on a space station,” she said, aiming at a guard coming down the hall. “And even if you have the pineapple, we have no nail gun and no maple syrup.” In this case, the maple syrup was actually maple syrup. 

“I can make do with a stapler and a can of…”

“Would both of you shut the hell up!” Something arced over their heads and she ducked back behind the desk. The heatwave from the incendiary grenade started her sweating even a hundred feet away. “We’ve got a bloody job to do!”

She looked out over the desks again, their path to the Normandy was all but clear. The door was locked, but after Hock’s security, a prison door would be a walk in the park. If she couldn’t bypass it, she was sure that if she went through the pockets of enough dead prison guards, she’d find a key eventually. That just left the matter of Subject Zero.

She could leave her in cryostorage. She could already imagine the look on the Illusive Man’s face when she would tell him, “I’m sorry. There were unforeseen complications and I had to leave her on the ship.” She didn’t think he’d react, but it would be worth it nonetheless.

Then again, Kuril tried to put a price tag on her head and he’d proven unreasonable when she attempted negotiations. No matter what these people had done, no matter how he styled himself as a protector of the galaxy, he was little more than a fancy slave trader. He was going to do anything he could to keep her on this station.

If Subject Zero was half as powerful as her dossier suggested or half as pissed off, she would be an asset in thinning prison security. Besides, Cerberus would probably get a refund if she left Subject Zero here so she couldn’t even appreciate wasting their money.

They broke from outprocessing and turned for the supermax wing. The guard’s chatter and the groaning of mech joints was too close for comfort.

Guards turned the corner towards them, followed by mechs. She cloaked and ducked behind a pillar. She took out the Locust, checked her ammo, and waited. Outnumbered and in close quarters, but she still had fear tactics.  

There was a little nagging part of her brain telling her that the tactical cloak made her far too comfortable fighting at close quarters. For now, she shut it down.

She grabbed the passing centurion by the shoulder, slammed him into the wall, and unloaded the clip into his throat. The shocked troopers behind him reeled back and Garrus and Zaeed made quick work of them. She joined in to finish off the two mechs. 

One last FENRIS unit skittered around the corner. She had one shot left and not enough time to reload. She promised Jacob she wouldn’t beat any more mechs with her guns. The metal of the face plate crumpled beneath her fingers and near effortlessly threw it over her head.

The triumphant crack of sniper fire and Garrus’ amused, “Scratch one!” reminded her of how damn good it was to have someone at her back.

She’d never been half as at home storming an enemy facility as the other people she’d served with. The vids didn’t show that though. The vids showed a woman with a gun she’d never learned how to use leading the charge against insurmountable odds. She’d developed a certain reputation and was not above using it to cause a tech to shit his pants when she swept into the security room.

He fumbled with his pistol and gave her just enough time to place her one shot.

She wiped blood from the console and she almost rolled her eyes. For a prison, they had a remarkably simplistic security system.

“Shepard if you hack security, you’re going to open every cell block in this facility,” Garrus said, gently laying his claws on her shoulder. 

In doing this, she would create chaos, a mass riot. However, it would start to solve the little problem with the prison guards. Torture was not only an inefficient, ineffective, and painfully amateur means of extracting information, but a really great way to piss off a prison full of dangerous criminals.

She didn’t doubt that the prisoners would kill her if the opportunity presented itself, but she felt confident that if given a choice between her and a guard that could have been beating on them a week ago, they’d go after the guard. It would certainly help to thin the guard’s numbers.

 “That’s the point.”

**_X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X_ **

Contrary to the crew’s collective belief, Jack was not crazy. Defensive, yes. Violent and dangerous, certainly. Not crazy.

Jack, while not entirely reasonable, could be reasoned with. She’d wanted to kill her when she saw the Cerberus logo, Mira talked her out of it. All it required was access to Cerberus databases. Shepard wasn’t even supposed to have that herself, but after getting into and cloning Chamber’s datapad, she had access to enough to keep Jack happy.

She took out a pen and paper and wrote down all the access codes she had. The kind of hate she saw burning in Jack couldn’t be manufactured and anybody who hated Cerberus as much as Jack did would be useful. At the very least, her antics would distract Lawson from her activities. She just had to gain her trust.

If she wanted Jack to trust her, she would have to let Jack decide the terms. Take it slowly, just let Jack get used to her presence and let her come to the conclusion that Mira wasn’t going to hurt her. People like Jack, people like her, had walls for a reason. If she went in pushing and prodding, she’d likely be on the wrong end of a shockwave.

“Do you mind?” she said, gesturing to one of the crates in the hold. She liked engineering. She understood why Jack chose it. Quiet, dark, and above all, safe. It didn’t hurt that the engineers hadn’t been lying about engine interference getting in the way of the monitors. “It’s quiet down here. I like it for work.”

“Go ahead, like I care,” Jack responded. Jack glanced at her out of the corner of her eye, sizing up exactly where Shepard was and exactly how much biotic power it would take to send her into the ship’s core.

She sat down and took out one of her datapads. Even with Chambers’ access codes, she was still stonewalled when it came to getting anything useful and it was only a matter of time before Cerberus figured out that the person logging in and searching their databases as Kelly Chambers wasn’t Kelly Chambers.

“What’s your play Shepard?” Jack asked. There was a resounding thud as her boots hit the metal floor.

“No play,” she replied. She didn’t look away from her datapad. “I just want to do my work in peace. Nobody comes down here and the monitors are all blown.”

Jack settled back down and continued to stare at Shepard. There was something familiar about her unflinching and suspicious gaze. Maybe not familiar. Maybe branching. Like her without subtlety or control.

“Why’d you let me look at these files?” Jack said, gesturing to the datapad.

“You asked for them.” There was tension in Jack’s shoulders and she gripped at her datapad a little harder. She had to convince Jack that this didn’t come with a catch. She had to let Jack come to her. Then when she asked for something in return, it wouldn’t seem like a catch at all.

“Your friends are into some nasty shit,” she said.

“You don’t need to tell me that,” she said. “You get into the stuff they were up to on Binthu?”

“I’m going to find something I can use, I just know it…”

She sat back, scrolled through her files and let Jack rant about hunting the people that hurt her. The more Jack talked, the more she got the feeling that Cerberus had ulterior motives in sending her to get Jack.

The Illusive Man wouldn’t have sent her to recruit somebody who hated Cerberus this much without a damn good reason. The more Jack talked, the more she became determined that Cerberus would never see those motives through.

They’d done _something_ to this woman. Something that went beyond raising her as a lab rat and chasing her like an animal. She wasn’t sure what yet and she wouldn’t ask or whatever sort of tolerance Jack had for her would vanish like the morning mist.

She twirled her stylus between her fingertips as she reviewed her mission report. Her hands shook slightly. Caffeine withdrawal. She’d been planning on taking a cup or two of shitty coffee from Purgatory on her way out, then that cretin set his guards on her. The aspirin she took from a first aid kit was holding off the inevitable headache, but it would do nothing for the drop in her focus.

Maybe it was for the better. She wasn’t sure if she could go from the nearly divine cup of coffee she’d practically had to beg out of a bartender at Hock’s place to cafeteria sludge.

She tucked her stylus behind her ear and switched back to her budgets. Words could swim across the page if they wanted to. Numbers never did.

Then she heard boots on the floor again and the next thing she knew, Jack was crouched on the crate next to her.

“You know, this ship is a powerhouse,” she said. “You could go pirate.” She knew there was a reason she liked Jack. “Live like a queen.”

“You’d be my first mate?” She grinned. She knew it was the kind of crocodile’s smile the Alliance media coach told her to never do in front of another human being ever again, but she didn’t care.

“I’d lead the boarding party and handle the executions,” Jack said, leveling her pistol at Mira’s head. She didn’t flinch as she got to her feet. She could kick herself later for letting Jack draw a weapon on her, but she couldn’t show she was afraid.

“What is it about killing that fascinates you so much?” She looked Jack dead in the eyes and waited for her to lower her pistol.

“I figure that every time someone dies and it’s not me, my chances for survival go up.” A very pessimistic way of looking at things, but one she found she could understand, even if she didn’t share it. You treat someone like an animal for long enough, they act like an animal.

Jack stiffened and her hand clasped into a fist. She’d overstepped and would need to back off before Jack did something Mira would likely regret far more than she would.

“I should go.”

She wasn’t even half way up the steps before she knew she couldn’t use Jack. She had forgotten how to be treated or act like a person on account of Cerberus. She was better than Cerberus. She might earn Jack’s trust, she might not, but she wouldn’t manipulate her.

Before she finished in engineering, there was one more thing she had to take care of. Cerberus paid the bills, but a damn good show of power on Zorya and the promise that she help him hunt Vido when this was all over meant that Zaeed’s loyalty was hers.

“Zaeed,” she said, leaning in the doorframe. “Do me a favor. Keep an eye on Jack.”

“Why?” he asked, setting down the jar of gun oil. “You think the Psychotic Biotic’s gonna blow this place?”

“Just keep an eye on her. Make sure the rest of the ship leaves her alone so she doesn’t have a _reason_ to blow a hole in the hull.” There was an unspoken, _“Make sure Cerberus doesn’t get their hands on her.”_


	10. Take Your Silver Spoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Miranda Lawson negotiates for an operative's rescue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another kind of short in between chapter. I know I'm not quite doing Miranda quite right, but I need the practice. I'm almost back on schedule and I'm stoked about it. If everything goes according to plan, there should be another update Saturday and it's a fun one, but I have job interviews this week, there's a lot of edits that need to be done on it, and there's only twenty four hours in a day…
> 
> Title's from Gold Dust Woman by Fleetwood Mac
> 
> Also, thank you to everybody who's reviewed, favorited, followed, what have you. All the comments, even the little ones, make this worth it!

Miranda Lawson had done the impossible. She'd brought the galaxy's most promising defender back from the dead. She took a pile of broken bones and mangled flesh that looked more at home in a dumpster behind a butcher's shop than on an operating table and she brought it back.

Just because something was difficult didn't mean she would give up.

Shepard was an annoying, smug, and stubborn woman. However, she was reasonable. The System's Alliance managed to get Shepard into certain death situations with only the promise of a paycheck and the threat of jail time. In her brief career as a Spectre, her threshold for what she considered an acceptable bribe was almost comically small. Miranda could get her onto Lorek.

They were the only ship close enough to get to their operative before they give up the encryption key. That data couldn't get out. Eclipse would be the least of their problems if anybody got their hands on Rawlings' data.

To anybody who'd spent less time studying the Commander, her quarters would have looked the picture of order and sanity. Miranda knew better. Three files were stacked on her desk, but rather than in an efficient straight line, they were crooked and the one on the bottom was open, the papers askew. The lights were dim and she'd rubbed a tangled mat into the back of her normally flawless hair.

She couldn't find it in herself to feel any measure of sympathy for Shepard. Any stress she was under, she'd brought upon herself.

"Shepard, I would like to discuss extracting our operative from Lorek," she said. She didn't look away from her files as Miranda entered the rom.

"We've already had this discussion Lawson," Shepard said, pulling the black pen from behind her ear. "I was hired to fight the so called, "Collector," threat." The air quotes were a little much. "Running errands is below my pay grade."

"I'm prepared to negotiate," she said. She could crush a mech's head with her biotics or take out a guard's eye at over a hundred meters. She had to capitulate to a woman who hadn't given her a shred of gratitude for all the work she put into her.

"I understand that, but if the Collectors are really the threat you think they are, then we can't afford to waste any time." As if Shepard hadn't been wasting time running errands for Aria T'Loak. "You've been working for this organization for a long time Miranda. You understand the risks associated with covert ops. If your operative was stupid enough to get caught, that's no concern of mine."

"If our operative gives up the encryption key, it could mean the end of the mission." If it was anything else, she'd leave the man for dead. Eclipse could sell the data to the highest bidder. If it got out, it could mean the end of Cerberus.

Shepard turned around and raised an eyebrow. She'd made it perfectly clear that she did not care about the mission, but there was something in her eyes beyond distain. "And what will the Illusive Man do if I fail a suicide mission? Terminate my contract?"

Kasumi Goto talked her into Bekenstein with little more than the dossier. Despite the unfortunate conclusion, she seemed more enthusiastic coming off the transport than she'd been in weeks. Miranda could play to her pride and desire to work.

"We need this man back alive and we need discretion. You're one of the few people in the galaxy with the skills for it." Shepard narrowed her eyes and stuck her pen back behind her ear.

"You said you were willing to negotiate. What's this operative worth to you?"

"What is Akuze worth to you?"

"Next to nothing. I know what happened, you know what happened. I asked Chambers to get it because I wanted her to leave me alone. That wasn't going to happen unless she thought I had deep seated pain that I desperately wanted to talk about, but didn't know how. If you want to negotiate, you know my terms."

"Lieutenant Moreau's employment is nonnegotiable, as is Ensign Chambers' and Gardener's." She'd made a point of ignoring Shepard's regular reports regarding nonessential personnel.

"I suppose further access to your databases is also a nonnegotiable." Shepard's face was little more than stone.

"You know I can't provide you anything classified."

"I want to be able to close the shutter." She stood and pointed above her bed. Even drunk, Shepard staunchly refused to sleep on the bed and Miranda wasn't paid enough to babysit her. "I want a cup of coffee I know isn't drugged." Nothing on the ship was drugged. Shepard had just convinced herself of that.

Shepard crossed the room, folding her hands behind her back as she stood by the empty fish tank. "…And I want your story."

"Excuse me?" There was a big note in the briefings of all the Normandy's staff. Do not give Shepard personal information until Cerberus could be assured of her loyalty.

"Your story. I want to know your history, why you joined Cerberus. What makes Doctor," Miranda could only marvel at how she made Doctor sound so horribly patronizing, like she hadn't really earned it. Like she hadn't brought somebody back from the damn dead, "Miranda Lawson who she is."

The woman studied her out of the corner of her eye. The blue light from the tank cast deep shadows into her cheeks and lent her dark olive skin an eerie glow. There was an energy to the air between them. A kind of electricity that a lesser person would have found chilling. Shepard wasn't a fraction as terrifying as her father.

She would do whatever it took to achieve her goals. She'd stared death in the face before. A petulant woman didn't scare her.

"What do you want to know?"

"Why don't you start with everything and I'll decide what I think is important."

"We could be here all day Shepard. Our operative doesn't have that kind of time."

"I want to understand what kind of people Cerberus employs. You want me to heel, come when called, roll over, yet you give me nothing more than buzzwords. Advancement of Humanity is such a vague term…"

"It's only vague because our fight is on many fronts. Cerberus believes in advancement through science, the military, poli…"

"I might have been inclined to listen to your recruitment video before you tried to kill me, body snatched me, and well, you've heard this all before. I need something more concrete. What is Cerberus to you?"

"I'm sure you're aware I've had extensive genetic modifications. Not my decision, but I make the most of it…"

"I can imagine it must be so hard for you." There was a distinctive lack of emotion in her voice. Shepard could be charming when she wanted to be. Still, the people who thought of her as an asshole were very insistent that she was an asshole.

"It's just a fact. My reflexes, my strength, even my looks, they're all designed to give me an edge. There's no point in hiding from it. It's the reason I'm trusted to oversee the most risky and technically demanding operations Cerberus undertakes. It's the reason I was assigned to you, it's my job to make sure you succeed."

Shepard would understand somebody who just wanted to do her job

"Are you satisfied by your job? A cutting edge scientist and field operative like you, you're wasted here. The Illusive Man must have done something to make you into my handler."

"My modifications, they weren't my choice. My father created me. He's a very influential man and very controlling. He didn't want a daughter, he wanted a dynasty. I ran away as soon as I was old and brave enough. I went to Cerberus because they could protect me. Unlike my father and his own selfish reasons, everything the Illusive Man and Cerberus does is for the greater good."

"Tell me more about your father." If Shepard was half the woman the Illusive Man thought she was, she'd find out anyway. There was no point in lying.

"He's a business man. A very wealthy one. My defection to Cerberus is almost ironic. He believed deeply in a pro-human agenda and donated generously to Cerberus. Before I joined them…"

"That's not ironic." There was far more genuine emotion behind that one statement than just about anything Shepard said to her in three weeks. "That's exactly how somebody would have expected that situation to play out. You were familiar with a powerful, shadowy organization. You ran to them seeking protection because you knew them and your father pulled his funds out when they no longer acquiesced to his desires. Nothing about that situation is ironic."

"Regardless Shepard, both of us were built for greatness. The difference is, you were great before I rebuilt you." Before she met Shepard, she'd admired her and her tenacity. If there was anything this mission taught her, it was to never meet your heroes.

"You've said a lot about your father. Did you know your mother or a she an anonymous surrogate?"

"I never had a mother. Most of my genetic material is based on my father's tissue." Shepard tilted her head, raised an eyebrow in a rare expression of confusion. "His Y chromosome was altered with an amalgam of desired traits from various sources. How arrogant can you be?"

Miranda prided herself on controlling her emotions, but talking about her father always brought something out. It was dangerous to let Shepard know that, but if it meant getting the job done, she could handle danger.

"…The man is completely egomaniacal. Just another reason I had to get away from him…"

She continued to ramble, but somewhere along the way, Shepard stopped asking questions and just started watching. Eventually, she trailed off and her heart caught as she realized Shepard was studying her.

"Interesting." There was something behind Shepard's gunmetal grey eyes. Gears turning, plans forming.

After the debacle on Bekenstein, she was beginning to wonder if what she brought back was somehow less than the famed Commander Shepard. She got caught and had to destroy the data. She spent hours poring over her notes, trying to find where she went wrong, nausea and a nagging dread filling her with each passing second.

She studied the Commander. She knew her better than anybody else in the galaxy. She even managed to retrieve one of the few tapes of her final confrontation with Saren.

In one word, she thought she saw a flash of the woman in the video. The woman who had a perfect shot from a hundred meters away and put down her gun. The woman who walked out in front of a rogue Spectre armed with only the supreme confidence that she would succeed. The woman who talked Saren to death because she could.

She should have been afraid, but instead she felt relief. In one word, she knew she'd succeeded.

**_X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X_ **

Dust swirled in front of her and she pulled her turtleneck further up over her nose. She hated air ducts. She always hated air ducts. They were cramped, they were dusty, and they were loud. None of that was helping her headache. She was just grateful that a prefab filled with mercs was unlikely to have trip lasers installed.

She'd given Garrus and Zaeed a pair of Blue Suns uniforms and told them to get Eclipse out of the prefab. Given the gunshots and the screaming and the smoke, they were doing their job. While they dealt with the grunts, she and Kasumi would get to the Cerberus operative.

Eclipse held Rawlings for over a week at this point. He was weak, tired, and thought she was the cavalry. Whatever data he had had Lawson spooked and she wanted anything that important for herself.

 _"Operative Rawlings? I'm here to get you out, but before I can do that, I need to make sure our data is intact. If we don't bring this back to the boss, we might as well bite the cyanide caps now."_ As soon as she got the key, it would be so easy to make it look like the Eclipse interrogators got too enthusiastic.

If Lawson had just told her this upfront about Lorek the first time around, she wouldn't have bothered to negotiate. As it was, she got some very interesting information out of Lawson. The woman resented her own manufactured perfection. Yet she fixed her teeth, gave her a prettier face, made her stronger and faster. Lawson was more like her father than she thought and she could exploit that.

The metal chilled her hands as she crawled towards the vent. Her shoulders were too broad to get through in armor. If there were any mercs left in the base, she would have to eliminate them quickly and quietly so that they wouldn't have a chance to shoot back.

She reached for her screw drivers and slowly opened the vent. Setting the grate down was always the tricky part. There wasn't enough room in the vent for leverage so putting it down quietly was next to impossible. All she had on the mercs was surprise. The battle outside was cover enough.

She slowly ducked her head down. There were two techs left, both frantically working at a terminal. She may have disliked her cybernetics, but they made her strong enough to hang from the vent by her knees as she took aim. Slow and deliberate leading into quick and clean.

Kasumi followed her down and started to work on the cell door while she stood watch. The stench of shit and decay wafting into the room as the door unlocked told her they were already too late. She'd lost the key, but she wouldn't lose any sleep over it.

The techs wouldn't have been working as hard at those terminals if they didn't have something important on them. She picked the tech up by the back of his shirt and dropped him off the terminal. She wiped the mix of Silarian mucus and blood off her hands before she opened the files.

Regular gunshots and detonations from outside were like a series of pile drivers in her skull. The files started to swim, she'd open one and couldn't remember which file she was looking at moments later. She leaned forwards and rested her forehead on the monitor. The faint electrical hum wasn't helping, but the pressure was good for something.

If anybody else had been there, she wouldn't have broken down like this. She trusted Kasumi wouldn't tell anyone she needed a minute because of a stupid withdrawal headache. Besides, Kasumi was too busy going through the wall safe to notice her.

She stood up again, shook her head, and straightened her back. The files still swam. She could manage it. It was just like a week of all-nighters in college. She thrived in that environment. She could handle it now.

The gunshots died down by the time she found the right files. After a fifth failure to force it through her decryption program, she decided she would come back to it later. She had to crack the encryption key before anything in these files would be of any use. She plugged one of her drives into the tech's terminal and began to download a copy.

Lawson and EDI didn't need to know about this. Cerberus could be happy that their sensitive data was safe. If it wound up in the hand of their enemies later, it was their own fault for sending her in the first place.

She just needed to keep it safe. There was nobody better suited to hiding stolen intelligence than the galaxy's greatest thief and that thief owed her everything.

"I need you to get this back onto the ship. Make sure nobody else can find it." Her voice was steady as she handed over the flash drive to Kasumi.

Almost three weeks to the day since she woke up and she finally had something. She had to keep calm, she was so close, she couldn't afford to get stupid now. She just needed to find one person who would believe the encrypted data was worth something and she could get out.


	11. For All the Things They Paid You For

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kaidan Alenko watches the news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm back on schedule finally. Also, happy coincidence between schedule slips and unexpectedly added or subtracted chapters, this chapter falls during Kaidan week on tumblr or something. IDK, I'm pretty out of the loop with fandom related things. I really hope you guys like this, I'm still a bit nervous about it. Title's from Lana del Rey's 24.
> 
> Edit: Also you will pry Bi Kaidan Alenko out of my cold dead bi hands 
> 
> Thank you to everybody who's still reading this, reviewing, favoriting, what have you. You guys make this all worth it.

He told himself that it was an actress. It was Westerlund News. If anybody would find someone to play Commander Mira Shepard back from the grave for an exclusive interview for the sake of ratings, it would be them. He told himself to keep walking, that it was just like the recruitment vids. If he could ignore them every day, without thinking about how much she would have hated the Alliance using her like that, he could ignore this.

So he did. It was Westerlund News. He'd read supermarket tabloids with more journalistic integrity. They tried to run a smear campaign on Shepard before. Her unflappable calm and diplomatic choice of words made this same reporter look like a raving lunatic on live TV.

Most of the time, it was the little things that got him. The smell of wintergreen or ginger, a particularly tricky question on Space Jeopardy, an article in Security Quarterly she would have liked. The bigger things – the ads, the unopened reparations check in his desk- almost didn't register anymore.

He still hadn't told anybody about the real nature of their relationship. His therapist was obligated to report that kind of thing. There was already scuttlebutt going around saying she'd gone crazy before the end. She didn't need her memory even more tainted by allegations of misconduct. Still, two years later, she'd faded to a dull ache and happy memories.

As he sent off his student's evaluations to Alliance command, he smiled. This time, her portrayal was just tasteless enough that she would have loved it.

After the incident with the Volus Mafia and Captain Cavanagh's subsequent stress induced retirement, the brass had him on a temporary assignment as a biotics instructor at the academy. Rumor was they were thinking of making it permanent.

He wasn't sure what he thought of that. The kids were smart, eager to learn, and they deserved so much better than he had. He was doing good work. He just wasn't sure if he was cut out for it. Maybe after so long in the field, it would just take some getting used to. The weekends and grading would definitely take some getting used to.

Ned was helping with that. They'd only gone out a few times, but he was having fun. He didn't think his buddy from basic setting him up with her doctor brother in law would end in anything other than awkward embarrassment, but it was pleasant. Awkward certainly, but pleasant.

They met for drinks on the Citadel. Ned was sweet, intelligent, wore adorable square rimmed glasses, and was just as nervous as he was. They talked about work, medi-gel improvements, laughed at each other's awkward jokes, Ned showed him pictures of his geckos, and even talked him into dancing. He thought he'd feel guilty the whole night, but by the time he kissed him goodbye, he was excited and hoped to see Ned again.

The next time they went out and wound up at a rock gym, he realized that Ned also had an unexpected spontaneous streak. Tonight was supposed to be more relaxed, they'd get sushi and see where it went from there. He was looking forwards to it. He hadn't stopped smiling since he got off the transport.

He was waiting on a bench in the waiting room when the story began to play again. He started to get up and walk away, then text Ned that he'd meet him outside, but he caught a second of it as he started to leave and he had to sit down again.

She was all angles and points. The bright camera lights cast a glare over her armor. There was something wrong with her face, parts were cracked and somehow glowing, other parts were slightly off, but she had her eyes. An off grey, intelligent, striking, almost off putting.

They played the interview and this time, he watched transfixed. She let the reporter set the terms of engagement, kept her best military posture and a well-practiced neutral expression. She drew Khalisah in, let her present her case, logical fallacies and all. She answered her questions politely and with each one, the reporter grew more and more confident. All the while, the woman's eyes were shining with anticipation.

"Do you have anything to say to the families of the men and women onboard the ships you destroyed to save the Destiny Ascension?"

She paused, tilted her head slightly left. For a fraction of a second, there was a slight uptick to her mouth and a gleam in her eyes. It wasn't enough to win. Her opponent had to know they'd been beaten at their own game.

"Khalisah, on the whole, would you say your viewership is fond of war vids?" She used to like watching nature documentaries. She always tucked her head against his shoulder for this part. " _I know the tiger has to eat. It doesn't mean I have to like watching it pounce on a baby deer."_

"After your victory against the Geth, everybody is interested in war vids."

"Then you do understand that the realities of fighting a war are about as far divorced from the vids as the Citadel leads will be in six months. Your viewership knows that. They understand that in war, there are sacrifices. It would be insulting their intelligence to pretend otherwise. "

"But Commander, you deliberately…"

"Let me speak." She let the air hang silent until it was clear that she wouldn't tolerate the reporter's interruptions. Shepard had a special kind of annoyance for people who interrupted her monologues. "The Turians lost twenty cruisers. Each had a crew of around three hundred. The Asari dreadnaught we saved, the Destiny Ascension, had a crew of ten thousand. That's ten thousand families to notify that their loved one is gone on account of our inaction."

"But surely the human cost…"

"The Alliance lost eight cruisers. Shenyang, Emden, Jakarta, Cairo, Seoul, Cape Town, Warsaw, Madrid. And yes. I remember them all." His heart raced. It had to be an actress. A very good one. Someone at Westerlund News did research this time. They knew how she spoke, how she acted. It wasn't her though. It couldn't be.

"Everyone onboard those ships, everyone in the fifth fleet who put their lives on the line for ten thousand people they didn't know, is a hero. The Alliance owes them all medals. The Council owes them a lot more than that. And so do you."

She turned on her heel and walked away, leaving the reporter sputtering about being bull rushed on her own show. Then she stepped just far enough out of the light for the glare to come off her chest. He'd studied the files enough to know that bright orange emblem anywhere.

Edolus. Ontarom. Binthu. Nepheron. All of them full of Cerberus soldiers and scientists. Most of them former Alliance. The ones they captured said they'd talk. They gave too much evidence for him to believe the Alliance was innocent in all they saw. He felt sick. Shepard just shrugged and continued filing her reports. She did their dirty work for too long to be surprised.

" _Turn clock…no counter…no…"_

He leaned forwards, tried to breathe. There was a nagging, tingling in the back of his head and the tips of his fingers. It couldn't be Shepard. She was dead. There was a name on a wall. An empty apartment. Too many ceremonies and memorials to remember. A hidden cache of fake IDs and cash under a floorboard. An empty casket.

" _Fix it… Maintenance manual. Page 56, chapter 4, section 9, subsection 2…"_

There were always rumors. He knew better. But there was the thought, looming like the migraine he knew was coming.

Shepard was alive.

" _Secure t'O_ _2_ _line with one hand and firmly hold it n'place, with the other, turn the lockin mechanis…" It's all he's heard for the last two minutes, increasingly frantic, then slow and slurred. "With one…can't hold'nd turn at the same…"_

_He wants to say something, comfort, guidance, love, anything, but she can't afford to lose focus. If anybody can fix this, it would be her. Mira Shepard was a survivor. She dug herself out from under Sovereign's wreck on the Citadel with a dislocated shoulder. She can fix this._

" _If…take the other hand…guide…" She screams. It's choked. The air's already been ripped from her._

_He'd watched her stitch herself up looking like it was a mild inconvenience. Shepard didn't scream. She gritted her teeth and moved on. Whatever is wrong with her, it's wrong enough to produce that unearthly, piercing shriek._

" _I will not die here." Those words got her through the long night on Akuze. It's the last clear thing she says. It's how he knows that this time, she's not coming back._

_He wants to say something, anything, but his mouth is dry and cottony. No matter how hard he tries, there's nothing. Every time she chokes and gasps and gags, the words leave him. By the time he can say something, the evacuation pod is as quiet as the coms and there's a Shepard shaped void on the other end of the line._

_**X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X** _

The pinging omnitool was like a flechette to his skull. It'd been beeping at him all morning. By the time he realized this would hit him like a Mako slug, he was too disoriented to remember to turn it off.

He leaned against the cabinet and cracked his eyes open. His legs shook. It was too far away. He'd overestimated how much walking to the kitchen would take out of him. The last thing he needed was to spend the rest of the day in a heap in the hall. At least it would stop in a few minutes.

He pressed a hand to his temple. It didn't do anything. He almost thought it did. That's what mattered.

He fought down another wave of nausea. He wanted to sink to the floor, rest until the room stopped spinning. He didn't think he could get back up if he did. A fresh ice pack seemed worth it a few minutes ago.

He pressed the pack to the back of his neck and took a water bottle and a sleeve of crackers from the counter. Ned left him a few water bottles and nutrient bars on his nightstand when he dropped him off the night before. He didn't have the spoons to get back to bed. If he felt up to eating later, he didn't want to waste any.

Ned offered to stay to help out. As much as he appreciated his efficient and practical bedside manner, it would have been asking too much to say yes. Besides, he could manage. He'd been managing his migraines for years.

He leaned on the counter and slowly made his way to the couch. He'd forgotten his meds the night before. Or maybe he hadn't. Too much brain fog to remember. Either way, he was almost grateful for the pain. It kept his mind from drifting elsewhere.

Every time he thought he heard her choking or remembered the emblem on her chestplate, his implant threw another familiar bolt through his brain. Anything to keep him focused on just the next few minutes.

He just about collapsed on the couch and the omnitool started pinging again. He slung a pillow over his head and let it go. It wasn't worth it. He'd contacted Sanders last night about needing a substitute Monday. She was probably getting back to him.

What followed wasn't sleep. He kept drifting towards sleep. Each time he was almost there, there was another knife behind his eyes. He twitched. Bile rose in his throat. After what felt like hours, he looked up at the clock. It'd been ten minutes.

It was almost night before he had the capacity to do anything other than lay on the couch in a semi-paralytic state. He could manage a handful of saltines and a few sips of lukewarm water. It couldn't wash the awful taste out of his mouth.

His skin was sticky and clammy. He was still exhausted, his body ached. Yet he felt better than earlier. He could get himself cleaned up, then take something that would let him get some real sleep.

He'd left his omni-tool on the sink the night before. He thought he should check his messages while he had a little clarity.

There were a few from Ned checking in on him. He replied that he was fine and asked if he was interested in taking a rain check on dinner next weekend. He'd have to wait to send it. Nothing said, "I'm sorry. Much better. Migraine crept up on me. Try again next week?" like the kind of misspellings and poor word choice brain fog created.

There was one from the sub asking about lesson plans and another about the filing system. One from Henderson asking about the extra credit assignment. Some spam. All things that could wait until later. He'd learned several lessons about sending professional emails when he could barely see straight.

It was all relaxingly normal. The emails reassured him that whatever he thought he saw, it wasn't real. Just a tabloid pulling another ratings stunt. It had to be.

Shepard was dead. She wouldn't put him through that for nothing. Twenty other people died on the Normandy. She wouldn't do that.

He was about to shut it down and start looking for his toothbrush when he caught the summons from Admiral Hackett.

_**X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X** _

He tugged at his collar. The skin around his implant was still sensitive after his episode over the weekend. An unexplained and unexpected summons was never a good sign. He thought he'd been doing well as an instructor. Maybe he was wrong. He didn't think he'd screwed up so badly as to involve Admiral Hackett.

The secretary waved him in and paged Admiral Hackett to let him know. The Admiral stood by the window, like a statue looking out at a starfield. He hadn't been in this office since the debriefing after Alchera. It looked like he'd never left.

"Sit down Commander," Hackett said, pointing to the chair on the other side of the desk. "There's no good way to say this." There was growing pit in his stomach as Hackett spoke. "We've received intelligence that indicates Shepard survived the Normandy crash."

"With all due respect Sir, you have bad intel." He wasn't sure if he believed himself. "I was on the coms with her when…"

"Shepard was caught breaking into Councilor Anderson's office and spoke briefly with the council." A chill went through him. "She's joined Cerberus."

Hackett sat across from him and opened the file. There was years of reports, stolen Cerberus data, recent security photos from the Citadel, stills from the video. He really thought it was a hoax. There was a mix of relief and horror swirling in his gut instead of surprise.

He went on, explaining the situation, missing colonies, suspected Cerberus activity, but he hardly heard it.

She was alive. Two years of grieving and pain were all for nothing. He'd loved her. He'd truly loved her. She let him think she suffered and died.

He knew everything about her; all the good, all the bad, everything.

Some of it she stated like facts. She made, "I never actually got my driver's license. At this point, everyone just assumes I have one and now I'm in too deep to take driver's ed," sound like, "The sky is blue because the molecules in the air scatter high energy wavelengths."

Some of it sounded like a joke. One reporter too many asked her about why she was so determined to save the galaxy. Rather than get angry, she just smiled, laughed, and said, "I live here."

Sometimes, late at night when it seemed like they were the only people on the ship still working, when she felt safe that nobody else would ever hear, she'd start talking in an almost painfully tired voice. Like every word had been dragged kicking and screaming to her lips and beaten until it was too exhausted to resist being made to tell the truth. Earth and Akuze were tired stories. She'd never find the courage to tell them again.

He knew how she clawed her way out of the gutter on Earth. She didn't think she would have left the Reds if she hadn't been forced to. She faked her death and sold out the rest of her gang to save her own life. Then she conned her way into University of Earth with fake transcripts and letters of recommendation, all of it paid for with Alliance scholarships.

She told him how it all went to shit. They found out she was a fraud. She went in for what she thought was a meeting with the Dean to expel her. Instead, there was a woman claiming she could make it all go away. Mira would have agreed to sell her soul for the chance to stay in school. Instead, a woman who should have done her minimum service and got out was bought and paid for as a spy.

He knew all about Akuze, the story behind the, "I survived because I refused to die," soundbite the Alliance loved to use in vids. He knew all the details she left out of her statement to save her career. Retreat was just as deadly as fighting back, so she played dead and waited for it to be over. He tried not to think about how Akuze was a Cerberus operation.

There were good things, he tried to focus on those. He thought about the sheer unabashed enthusiasm with which she talked about pirates or how she'd spend hours talking to engineering or medical, trying to learn as much as she could about everything on the Normandy. The earth-forged steel in her spine when she stood before the council after releasing the Rachni. " _I've done a lot of things I don't think I'm supposed to be proud of. Genocide will not be one of them."_

There was the shore leave that wasn't actually shore leave, but rather debriefings and a press tour. He tried to think about her curled up against his chest, pleasantly sleepy but still calling out the answers on Space Jeopardy. Instead, he remembered how much she enjoyed sneaking around, lifting his hotel keys for an elicit rendezvous later, meeting in alien bars and acting like they were strangers. At the time, he'd been just as exhilarated, now it felt like he'd missed a red flag.

There was radiant confidence in her, burning ambition, intelligence, cunning, charisma, loyalty, and if not honesty, an odd sort of integrity. After all, Mira Shepard was nothing if not a woman of her word. Every time they suited up, she was scared, but she was a professional. She went ahead with their mission anyway. There was also bitterness in her and cold, logical pragmatism.

" _They were going to take me back you know," she said, pacing on the balcony with a whiskey in hand. "After the Normandy's shakedown. Hackett was going to take me at 5_ _th_ _fleet for solo ops. If it went well..._   _I should have gone back anyway. I help save the damn galaxy and they still won't promote me above Lieutenant Commander…"_

He'd seen her slip into and out of too many covers too easily, yet he believed she really let him know her. He thought knew everything about Commander Mira Shepard and now he wished he didn't because it's only making everything Hackett's saying easier to believe.

He almost didn't notice when Hackett stopped talking. He took a deep breath, remembered where he was and who he was with. He needed to keep control of his emotions.

"Why are you telling me this?" Just like in the escape pods, he could grieve later.

"Ambassador Udina met with the council to discuss the situation," Hackett said. He looked as much a man carved out of stone as ever. "They said that humanity made this mess, we have to clean it up."

"Udina? Isn't that Anderson's job?" They should be sending another Spectre after her. The Council never really respected humanity, but this seemed a special kind of insult.

"Shepard put Anderson in power for a reason. The council would rather deal with a less partial party." Hackett shook his head. He knew exactly how much political bullshit this situation could become. "Regardless, Shepard's dangerous. We don't know what she or Cerberus have planned, but for her to show herself…"

"What do you think I can do about this?" His heartbeat was slow and dull and a steady numbness spread throughout him with each pulse.

"Captain Zabala's received reports of Cerberus activity near the Horizon colony. It's outside of our jurisdiction, but there's also AA towers on the colony that need maintaining," Hackett said, ignoring her and sliding photographs of the dilapidated defenses at him. "If in the course of your work on the AA towers, you happen to find Shepard, we can't fault you for bringing in a dangerous fugitive."

"I don't need to tell you that there are risks in this assignment. Shepard was one of the best. If she wanted to stay dead, she wouldn't go up in front of a tabloid news camera. She wants us to chase her. You knew her. She trusted you. She might let you get close."

"I don't think I knew her at all Sir." There were twenty more empty graves to attest to that. "I'm not sure how much help I'm going to be able to be here."

"I know it's a lot to take in. Think it over. I'll have your answer by the end of the day."


	12. Flick the Switch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Mira Shepard plans for a tropical vacation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter goes out to everyone who’s had a beaker of growth media spilled on them. Also, as peeved as I am about this because I just got back on schedule, after the next chapter updates might slow down for a while. There’s a minor AU I’m toying with for this fic and it’s really tempting. Like, really tempting. So I might have to make some changes to my plan. Title’s from Muse’s Uprising. 
> 
> Thanks again to everybody who’s reviewing or favoriting, leaving kudos, what have you. Also, would anybody be interested in a cut content kind of ficlet?

Mira had to give Cerberus credit, they were very dedicated to replicating the surroundings that contributed to her previous success. Their competence was always suspect, but she had to give them credit for trying

They gave her an oversized replica of the Normandy. They gave her Joker and Chakwas. They gave her Garrus, a very powerful, but unstable biotic, a technological genius, and while Jacob was no Ashley, he was certainly a decent soldier. In theory, they set a detail oriented covert ops expert to run the whole operation. They even had an annoying ingénue to put her on a pedestal and try to poke around in her head. She thought Zaeed was their answer to Wrex. He certainly had the same murderous, explosion happy, mercenary uncle feeling to him.

Now that they were sending her after Okeer, she might have to reevaluate where he and Kasumi fit in to this terrible remake of her hunt for Saren.

She would have plenty of time for reevaluation when she was sitting on a nice beach on that vacation she always said she was going to take, then never took. She’d have a drink with one of those little umbrellas in hand and put this whole mess behind her.

Gainna Parasini forwarded her a job offer after she left Noveria. Maybe she’d see they were still hiring. She’d certainly like to see Gianna again even if they weren’t.

Even if she found someone in the Alliance willing to listen to her and willing to make a deal, she wasn’t going to get her job back. She certainly wasn’t going to get her life back. She didn’t have the time or the luxury to let it bother her too much. Besides, she’d built something great out of ashes before. She could do it again.

If everything went according to plan, she wouldn’t see any of these people other than Garrus ever again. She just had to suffer through a Blue Suns compound filled with the delightful sounds of an unstable warlord’s monologue first.

“Now, I have a nice application of medi-gel ready to go, but if you would rather I kept walking…” She had no intention of wasting good, needed medi-gel on a whiny merc, but he didn’t need to know that.

“Son of a…I don’t know anything, I just shoot the overflow from the labs!” he insisted. A thin trickle of blood flowed from his leg onto the dirt as he squirmed.

“You’re selling yourself short. Everyone knows something. We’re new here, what’s nothing to you might be something very valuable to us,” she said, kneeling down beside him. “But if you really can’t then…”

“I don’t get paid enough to bleed out,” he stammered. “The old Krogan up there, he’s really been cleaning house lately. Jedore hired him to make her an army, but the Krogan he makes are all insane so we use them for live ammo practice….”

His radio crackled. “ _Outpost four, check in. We need coordinates on that Krogan pack.”_ Life would be much easier if she didn’t have to cut her way through both mercenaries and more insane, lab grown Krogan. She thought she put an end to that when she shot that Asari scientist on Virmire, but apparently Saren’s work lived on.

“You heard the man,” her voice was soft and sweet, like poisoned honey, “give him directions.” She laid a hand on his wound, let him get a look at her omni-tool. Medi-gel ready to go. “Tell him exactly where we are.”

“I didn’t have time to make my usual sightings…”

“You’re already hurt,” she said. “What do you think they’re going to do to you when they find out you don’t have their position?”

He picked up his radio, fingers trembling as he pressed down on the reply button. “This is outpost four, there’s a pack sighting east of outpost two.” He set the radio down and leaned back against the collapsed wall. “Bitch. They’re going to walk right into a Krogan pack…” Exactly what she wanted out of this situation.

“Thank you for your information, now I should go.” She took the radio and jumped to her feet. She wasn’t going to take the chance that he could tell any of the other squads where she was and she could use the radio to keep the mercs out of her way.

“You said you were going to give me…” He reached up for her tool. She snatched it back and drew her pistol.

“I said I had one ready to go, not that I was going to give it to you. You assumed.” She shot him in the head and kept walking. “What do you think Zaeed, Blue Suns gone downhill since you left?”

**_X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X_ **

She hadn’t been in favor of bringing the tank onboard. Just another very heavy, dangerous, and unnecessary piece of cargo. Of course, now that it was here, she had no choice but to let it out of the tank.

From the way Okeer talked about the Krogan in the tank, -pure, “The Lance,”- she could see why Cerberus liked him. She’d heard that kind of rhetoric from members of every single species. Different species, but always the same sentiment. If she found out that the Terra Firma party was primarily backed by Cerberus donors, she would feel a distinct lack of surprise.

Still, if all his mad bio-engineering bore any fruit, it would be too dangerous to let Cerberus get their hands on the Krogan. There would come a point where she couldn’t hide anymore. The last thing she needed was for Lawson to release it herself when she was on her way out.

When Cerberus found out what she was planning, it would be to her benefit to have a Krogan in front of her. They were almost always a priority target. She was dangerous, but she was dangerous at a distance. In quarters like these, he was almost eight feet of solid muscle and armor right in their faces. They’d forget all about her, which was exactly how she liked it.

“Garrus wait here,” she said, pointing to the door to engineering. “I don’t want to overwhelm them, but just in case I need back up.”

They had a size and strength advantage. While she didn’t trust Chakwas with her medical scans, she was reasonably certain that despite installing enough nonconsensual hardware to bankrupt a black market Sol Depot, Lawson forgot to include redundant organs. Even with all that going for the Krogan, nobody did surprise quite like Mira Shepard.

“It’s a Krogan in close quarters, you sure you don’t need more immediate backup?” he said, removing the disruptor mod from his Avenger.

“I’ll keep it in mind, but they’re unarmed and they’re going to be confused. I can work with confused,” she said.

“You know, one of these days people are going to stop listening to you,” he said, clicking his talons against the incendiary mod, then the warp mod. He closed his right eye for a few seconds before settling on the incendiaries.

“And when that day comes, I’m going to be very far away, with a very big gun,” she said, checking her pistol. “How’s your eye?”

“I don’t know how Humans get by with so few colors,” he said. “I’ll be fine. Even without it, I could still outshoot you.”

“You know I can’t say no to a challenge Vakarian,” she said. “Maybe when this is all over, a nice beach, some beer bottles…but if I don’t make it that far, avenge me.”

She opened the door and took a moment to evaluate the Krogan floating in the tank like a frog in formaldehyde. Solution bubbled around him, the noise from the valves like the fishtank in the captain’s quarters. He was bigger than Wrex. His headplates had yet to fuse.

She had plans to take out Wrex if she had to. One for close quarters, one for long range, both of them solo. She could adapt them to account for squadmates if they were there, but it was better to plan to be alone. She preferred long range, but she could still use them here.

She narrowed her eyes as she got closer, wondering if she would encounter something more reasonable than their progenitor.  She had a pistol, three very large knives, and Garrus if she didn’t.

“Cerberus protocol is very clear regarding untested alien technology,” EDI chirped. She almost asked where Thorian Creepers and Thresher Maw venom fit in amongst untested alien technology.  Then again, they were in the end thoroughly tested. Cerberus just skipped straight to human trials.

“You provided me with the protocols and I proceeded to thoroughly review them,” she said, slowly pacing back and forth before the tank. “Please release the controls.”

“Very well Shepard. The controls are online. The switch – and the consequences- are yours.” She could do without being condescended to by her own ship. Maybe she’d finish picking the lock to the AI core and dismantle it before she sent the data from Lorek.

“Thank you EDI, that will be all,” she said, keying in the passcodes to release the Krogan. The hydraulic clamps hissed and the fluids began to drain.

They fell to their knees, choking and sputtering on the tank solution. A little part of her considered getting down beside them, steady them, tell them to breathe, but Krogan didn’t respond as well to shows of empathy as humans. She mostly just once again reviewed the location of her pistol, her knives, and the few weak points in Krogan armor.

She could work with scared and confused, but she also knew that it could be a deadly combination and she didn’t want to be any closer than she had to be.

They looked at her as they got back up. Their eyes were unfocused and hazy. Without the glass between them, they looked smaller. For a moment, they swayed on their feet, then they found their balance and lunged.

They slammed her into the wall. The impact knocked the air from her lungs.

_She can’t move her right arm. She needs to hold the line still to screw it back in place. She flexes her fingers. She can still grip it. Just can’t get to it. She chokes and her lungs and throat burn._

_Joker’s screaming on the other end of the line. She wants the time and the air and the head space to tell him to shut the hell up so she can think. If she can fix it now, she can buy an hour. Instead, she grabs her wrist and tries to raise it over her head._

_“If…take the other hand…guide…” The bones shift and there’s stabbing pain. She doesn’t recognize the noise that follows as human._

“Human, female,” a voice growled. A wet arm pressed into her chest. “Before you die, I need a name.” The threat of death always steadied her.

She controlled her fear. It did not control her. It gave her focus and drive. She wouldn’t let a maniac’s science project take that from her.

She could move her right arm. No matter what Okeer taught them, theoretical education was no match for years of experience and she’d be lying if she said this was the most dire life and death situation she’d been in. Krogan didn’t take as well to pretty words as other species. Diplomacy required actions. She could gain his respect if she could turn this situation around.

“Stand down. I’m Commander Mira Shepard,” she ordered. Her voice was steady and strong, as if her name alone should be enough for them to let her go.    

“Not your name. Mine.” Their eyes were clearer, but focused solely on her face. The Krogan’s skin looked surprisingly soft and smooth. Its youth gave it a disadvantage. “I am trained, I know things, but the tank…Okeer couldn’t impart connection. His words are hollow…Warlord, legacy, grunt…grunt. Grunt was amongst the last. It has no meaning. It’ll do.”

She’d overestimated how quickly the Krogan would get oriented. He could be smarter than she’d previously thought. Not a comforting thought with her feet dangling six inches off the floor, but she could still work with it.

He was aware and very quick to process new information. But he had wants, needs, and desires just like anybody else. That he thought he had any control of this situation was almost adorable.

“I am Grunt. If you are worthy of your command, prove your strength and try to destroy me.” He smelled like the growth media in Mordin’s lab.

“You wouldn’t prefer a name with more significance?” Her fingers closed around her pistol grip.

“It’s short, matches my training,” he said. “I feel nothing for Okeer and his clan. I will do what I was bred for – to fight and determine the strongest- but without meaning, one fight is as good as another. Might as well start with you.”

That line of thinking clashed with both her long and short term goals. He spoke like he was looking to belong somewhere. She could give him that. If he didn’t take her offered hand, she also had a carnifex. 

“I have a good ship and a strong crew,” she said. The ship was well crafted and the crew competent, regardless of her other feelings on the matter.  “A strong clan. You’d make it stronger.”

“If you’re weak and chose weak enemies, I’ll have to kill you.” She just raised an eyebrow and hung there like a wall mounted statue.

“I chose you didn’t I?” Then he looked down and saw the pistol pressed into a gap in his armor.

“Acceptable,” he growled. “I’ll fight with you.” As if she had given him a choice.

“Glad you saw reason,” she said. Grunt dropped her and she landed lightly as she ever had.  Her damp shirt clung unpleasantly to her arm.

“Offer one hand, yet arm the other,” he said. He laughed. It was an almost endearingly creepy noise. That of someone who’d only ever read about laughter in books and wanted to try it for himself. “Clever. If I find a clan, if I find what I want, I would be honored to eventually pit them against yours.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said. She was going to go down to the lower hold after this to continue planning. A dry shirt seemed more important now.

He paced the hold a few times, getting a better look at his new surroundings. She could come back down later and offer to show him around the ship when he was better settled.

“Your hold is too open.” It was the first she’d heard of it. It was all big crates and corners, with maintenance shafts always just close enough to make a quick getaway. Then again, it was built with humans in mind and she was a very crafty human. “Not enough cover...”

“It’s not meant for your comfort. It’s the engineering deck of a stealth ship,” she said.

“It’s tactically unsound. Too easy to scatter heavy cargo and engines,” he said. “Armor is limited. Warlord Granth would target here. That’s what the tank showed about your human ships.”

“What else do your imprints show about humans?” She paced along with him. Even if he followed her for now, it would be nice to know what to expect if he turned on her.

“Less than one finger deep to sever the spine. Asari, Drell, and Salarians, just as soft. Quarians are more durable…” He sounded like he was reading off of a flash card. “…Turians you have to work the blade. I don’t see much point though. Heh. Point.”

Alliance media training taught her that her natural laugh was too bitter to be heard by other people. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to tell him that his was too creepy.  

“Anything about me?” she said.

“Nuclear fire and thousands of the unworthy dead,” he said. “The tank spoke of Krogan victories and defeats, you’re nothing more than a footnote.”

“Yet you’ll still follow me,” she said. It was an order rather than a question.

“You are strong, clever, and you choose your fights well.” He opened a crate, peered inside, then shut it once he realized it was just the office supplies she ordered.

“Then I’ll let you get settled Grunt. Our ship’s doctor will be down later to look you over. I expect you to treat her with respect,” she said. He made a noise at her and continued pacing the hold as she left.

Garrus was still standing at the ready by the Engineering door. “Minimal loud noises. I take it that went well.”

“Grunt’s reasonable,” she said. “And for now, he’s on our side.”  She wrung out as much of the shirt sleeve as she could. “Wouldn’t turn my back on him for too long though.”

Still, there was something oddly endearing about the big guy. He was young, in some ways highly educated, in others hopelessly naive. He respected her enough to follow her orders. Grunt could be useful.

“You smell like rancid soup,” Garrus said. “Also, Grunt?”

“He’s been marinating in growth media his whole life,” she said. “And yes. I asked if he wanted a better name. It’s Grunt.”

“Krogan creativity never ceases to amaze,” he said, following her towards the elevator.

“And Turian sculptures are just fantastically imaginative,” she replied.

“You wouldn’t be so sarcastic if you could see the colors,” he said.

“I’ll be sure to have a UV filter next time I’m breaking into a vault,” she said. “Let Jack and Engineering know about their new neighbor. I’ll let Zaeed know and then I have to get changed before I start craving matzah balls.”

Garrus nodded, then waved himself into Engineering.

“Zaeed, you’ve got a new buddy in the other cargo hold,” she said, poking her head into his quarters. “He seems like he’s pretty well oriented, just keep an eye…”

 “Shepard! I’m a damn mercenary warlord, not a babysitter!” Zaeed shouted. “Jack’s bad enough! Keeps trying to shoot out the hull! Says it’s bloody target practice! You’d swear nobody showed her to use a shotgun right!”

“If you’re so bothered by this, show her how to use a shotgun,” she said. “I don’t have the time to stay down here and watch them. You don’t want them blowing holes in this ship any more than I do, so do your job.”

 She was half way to her quarters when her coms crackled. “Commander, the Illusive Man wishes to speak with you,” Chambers said. That was the exact opposite of what she wanted right now.

“Tell him that while I’m honored he’s decided to contact me, I have pressing mission related matters to attend to.” Such as a damp shirt that smelled like growth media.

“Navigation’s been shut down until you meet with him.” Which meant she couldn’t swing by Omega to pick up more mercenary work from Aria or a decent cup of coffee. Lawson swore up and down that the food wasn’t drugged. She trusted Lawson would keep her word. She didn’t trust Gardener that far.

“Tell him I’m currently finishing important business and will see him in twenty minutes.” Coffee was important enough that she could go along with the Illusive Man. After she had a shower and put on a dry shirt that didn’t smell like rotten chicken soup.

**_X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X_ **

As he materialized in front of her, she was reminded of the pack of cigarettes in her desk. The same cheap brand she used to smoke when she was a kid. It’d been almost fifteen years since she quit, but the smoke curling from his hand made her crave one.

She used to have a nice case she found in a second hand shop. It was cheap tin, but it was pretty, engraved like the back of a playing card. Buying herself a high-end case had always been in her plan, until she had to resort to plan Z.

“Shepard, I think we have them.” They had pirates or slavers or more hostile wildlife. “Horizon – one of our colonies in the terminus systems- just went silent.”

She crossed her arms as the galaxy map behind him zoomed in on the planet. A green and white marble not unlike Eden Prime.

“If it isn’t under attack yet, it soon will be. Has Mordin delivered the counter measures for the seeker swarms?”

She honestly had no idea what Mordin was doing regarding the Collectors. She spent a lot of time in the lab as it was one of the few places she could rely on being free of bugs. Running a ship like this required extensive research and she liked to know exactly what kind of work was being put into it. Plus, it was nice sharing covert ops experiences with him.

He could talk her ear off about science if she let him and she almost always let him. At one point, she’d asked him about tricking her tracking chip. Surgical removal was easy enough, but it was temperature sensitive and therefore, making sure Cerberus still thought it was implanted was more difficult than simply carrying it around with her. Probably also sensitive to her unique body chemistry. An interesting challenge. Not his first priority, but interesting nonetheless.

“Not yet sir.” A better response than saying that she didn’t care.

“Let’s hope he works well under pressure,” he said. She narrowed her eyes.

“What makes you think I’m going to do this?” She was not in the mood to deal with more unexpected hostile wildlife.

“It’s a human colony Shepard. You have the opportunity to save them. I’ve given you considerable leeway with my resources and ask for very little in return.”  The hologram flickered. “I can leave you hanging in space until you recognize this.”

“If Mordin doesn’t have anything, then sending myself or my crew off to fight the Collectors would be a waste of my time and work,” she replied. “As vital is this colony can be, there’s no point in wasting resources on something I can’t save.”

“There’s something else you should know.” His eyes glowed an unnatural blue and she was reminded of Saren’s glowing skull grinning at her. “One of your former crewmates, Kaidan Alenko, is stationed on the colony.”

Her heart gave a jump, but anything she felt didn’t show. Kaidan thought she was dead, probably moved on with his life, but he’d cared about her. He might be willing to listen. She wouldn’t have any face to face contact while on the planet, he was still Alliance. Cerberus personnel were to be treated as hostiles.

She could leave the data from Lorek planetside. Someone on the colony had to have a pen and paper. She couldn’t explain in person, but she could give him a dead drop and wait for someone to respond. Get in, get out, go home. Be the ghost she used to be.  

He deserved more than a hastily scrawled note explaining that she was alive. He’d stayed on the line with her the whole time. He didn’t scream or distract her like Joker, just made sure she wasn’t alone. She didn’t have that luxury though. Her feelings on Kaidan regardless, she had a job to do. So she’d box it up and forget about it.

“Why is an Alliance commander stationed in the Terminus systems?”

“Officially, it’s an outreach program to improve Alliance relations with the colonies. Fixing their AA towers,” he said. Ashes fell like stars into his ashtray. “But they’re up to something and if they sent Commander Alenko, it must be big. I suggest you take it up with him.”

“With all due respect sir, if the colony really is in danger, it would be more time efficient for me to hack Alliance databases than it would be for me to sift through whatever emotional bullshit he’d throw at me before I could get any sort of useful information.” Cerberus knew about them, they didn’t need to know that it’d been anything more than sex on her part.

“Be that as it may, I doubt it’s a coincidence the collectors are targeting a colony with one of your crew. Their interest shouldn’t come as a surprise, especially if they’re working for the reapers,” he said.

She didn’t think the Collectors had much to do with the colonies. Electrical problems plagued colonies outside of Alliance space. If there was a problem with the AA towers, there was a problem with the rest of the electrical system. Probably took out coms with it. Cerberus ultimately wanted her for something else.

Yet if they were…If they were working for the reapers, if they really were targeting people affiliated with her, he would be a priority target. She

More importantly, Kaidan’s presence on the colony gave her the best chance she would ever have. Kaidan was a reasonable man. The data was still encrypted, but if anybody would take the time to fully examine the situation and see if what she’d left had any worth, it would be him. It didn’t matter who he’d been to her, he was an asset now. She didn’t get emotionally attached to assets. People who got emotional inevitably got stupid. She was many things, but she was not stupid.

“Send me the coordinates. I won’t make promises, but I’ll see what I can do,” she said.

“This is the most warning we’ve ever had Shepard. Good luck,” he said.

The hologram disintegrated and she started towards the labs at a brisk walk. She was controlled. She would not run. Everything was right where she wanted it to be.

Kasumi hid her flashdrive amongst several of Mordin’s very similar drives and she had someone on the other end to receive her information.

While Mordin pointed to a Seeker in the tank and explained his proposed antidote, she paged Garrus to the lab. She could explain things here. No monitors, just Mordin. If she explained things to Garrus, she’d have to take Mordin with them onto Horizon in order to best control the information. Keep it just between the three of them.

She leaned against the wall to the lab, crossed her ankles, and let the wonderful sense of clarity settle over her. She’d earned that tropical vacation. She might actually take it this time. She could almost hear the sea and taste the rum.

The Illusive Man would regret trying to make her his lap dog. 


	13. Stranded in the Wrong Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Mira Shepard prevents alien abductions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I wasn’t planning on updating this week. Instead, I wound up digging through boxes in a cold garage to find my anatomy textbook from two years ago for one line. This wound up a lot longer and a lot more disorganized than I intended for it to be. I’m working on getting better at action scenes. This week’s title’s from Keene’s is it Any Wonder. Thanks to my continued reviewers, readers, etc. Wishing all of you the happiest holidays. 
> 
> Also Supplemental Author’s Note from your friendly local garden center employee: Please be nice to people selling Christmas trees this year. Please. Please. Be. Nice.

“And when you were messing around with that damn laser, power just went down on the coms all on its own?” Lilith said, practically running after him.

“It’s complicated.” That was the beauty of Shepard’s work. She created difficult to find and nearly impossible to fix problems within a system. She snipped the powerline, then the failsafes, then nearly seamlessly melted the coating to reseal it. It was bad enough that he spent the better part of a week trying to find and replace the destroyed wiring, only for the power to go down on the coms as soon as he replaced the last wire.

Now he just had to figure out what she’d done with the coms, then spend days poring over code trying to find what was likely a single extra line in the targeting algorithm. Just enough to scramble it, but not enough to draw attention. It would look just enough like the existing code to evade detection for long enough to accomplish whatever Shepard was up to.

“That’s Alliance speak for we fucked up and don’t want to admit it.” She sounded more and more annoyed by the second. His mere presence on the colony was already an affront to her engineers. The fact that he was here and made their problems even worse didn’t help matters at all.

“Lilith, you’ve got bigger problems than the power,” he said. Like the terrorist running around their colony. He’d wanted to tell colonial leadership about Shepard the second he landed, let them know exactly what they were facing, but for the sake of the mission, he had to keep it confidential. He still didn’t know what she wanted with this colony and she was very good at covering her tracks. “Whatever’s wrong, I can fix it, it’s just going to take time.”

“That’s what you said about recalibrating the targeting matrix,” she said. “You’ve been here too long already.”

“Those defense towers are useless if we don’t figure it out,” he said.

“Sorry Commander, but getting coms back up is my priority,” she said. “I know they sent you out here for their towers, but my responsibility is to my colony.”

“I understand that, I can get the coms back up, you just need to trust me.” He hadn’t done a lot to earn that trust, but if he could get this done, then maybe he could convince Lilith and the colonists that the Alliance wasn’t all bad.

“Don’t take this personally Commander, I know you’re trying, but people out here don’t trust the Allian…What is that?” She pointed to something moving just beyond the cloud cover.

For almost two years, he saw that ship whenever he closed his eyes. At the time he thought it was some horrible alien thing. He knew better now. Shepard used it as a prop in one last great performance. He kept asking himself if he really believed she could do it. It wasn’t her style, too big, too public. Then again, she’d become too public.

Whatever Cerberus was planning, they’d find out soon.

“Lilith, take as many people as you can. Get them to safety,” he said. Something was moving through the prefabs like a cloud of locusts. Drones. Thousands of drones.

He had to get a barrier up, get as many people behind it as possible, get them into the buildings, then go back out and help get more colonists to safety. Then he could focus on Cerberus. He was half way through a mnemonic when one of the drones stung his neck. Still, a bubble flickered to life around him and the surrounding colonists and it held against the drones.

He called out to them, tried to tell them to get behind the barrier, but his jaw was stiff and his tongue heavy. He never realized how many muscles went into speaking until one by one, they froze.

Around him, colonists were rushing to each other, trying to help each other to safety. Lilith tried to direct the chaos around them, but her voice and movements were labored.

He tried to fight, tried to keep moving, but paralysis crept out from his neck. It felt like a sadistic anatomy quiz, could identify everything as the toxin spread and he lost control of his body. Levator scapulae _,_ scalene muscles, trapezius…

Then the barrier fell and the swarm closed around them. The sound of a thousand wings filled the air and as they swarmed, he could finally see them. Not drones. Insects.

They bit and stung and he fell. Lilith’s horrified face stared back at him as she fell only a few feet in front of him. Around them, the colonists, one by one, froze and dropped to the ground. Off in the distance, there was the sound of boots on dry grass and the buzzing of wings.

His heart was near impossibly slow. Ice spread through his veins as he thought about the toxin reaching his heart. Cardiac arrest, death in minutes. Not just for him, but for all of them. Thousands on the colony. Thousands who would die because he hadn’t been able to figure out what was going on fast enough.

He tried to close his fingers. Nothing happened. If he could move, he could fix it. Help as many as he could. He didn’t know how to counteract the toxin, but he could try. There had to be something that would work, something in a first aid station or medical office that could save these people.

The barrier held at first. If he could only get back up, get some kind of motion he could help at least a few people. Get a barrier back up, save a few. Just save a few, then go back. One step at a time. Help as many as he could.

The sounds were closer now. Advancing ground troops, wind through the trees, the dull rush of blood through his head, and his own labored breathing echoing like it had over the coms on Alchera. He wanted to turn his head, see what was coming, assuage the dread pooling in his belly. He couldn’t see them. Nothing beyond Lilith, the prefabs, and the bugs crawling through the grass.

Nothing he could do but wait for the toxin to finish its work. Whether his heart or lungs would give out first he didn’t know. He heard gasping and choking, but it wasn’t his and wasn’t the colonists. He knew it was a fake, tried to shut it out, but he still heard her like it was still happening.

Then there was movement. Blurred and unfocused at the edge of his vision. Shadows of shadows. Things that would vanish if he could turn to look. The sound of bodies being dragged.  

Something bent down and started dragging Lilith away. It had a head like something in an old vid and eyes like a fly. Four spikes ripped through his armor and into his side. Dry grass scratched his face as the creature dragged him back.

**_X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X_ **

There was something hard in the set of her jaw as she nudged the Collector with her toe. “Huh. Cerberus _was_ right.” It sounded like she was talking about the weather.  

Garrus had once been on track to be one of C-Sec’s best detectives and he considered himself to be pretty good at reading people. Even for him, Mira Shepard was hard to read and somehow, she became even more so when something unsettled her. Yet after spending months onboard the Normandy with her, he thought he had an idea of how she worked. Not a good one, he never quite figured out how she kept managing to sneak up on people, but at least he had an idea.

“Fascinating. Never seen specimen up close before,” Mordin said, peeling off chitin samples and placing them in small bags.

As long as he was on the ship, she insisted that Cerberus was wrong about the Collectors abducting human colonists. Shepard said it was pirates or Batarian slavers or hell even Thresher Maws again. All the files Cerberus had said otherwise, but their only evidence was a traumatized witness and a grainy, unfocused video.

He wasn’t sure what to believe. He’d woken up on a strange ship with bright lights and a woman he thought was dead. There were still some mornings where his tools felt nearly foreign in his claws, Cerberus seemed a little too friendly, and he wondered if he had bled over the bridge.

If the vorcha in the ventilation system was right, the Collectors sent that plague to Omega. While they recruited the doctor, he saw its effects first hand. They killed the people he’d done his best to help and get justice for. Maybe it was time for some payback.

 “How long do you think they’ve been on the planet?” she asked. Her fingers barely perceptibly curled. There was a flash of something cold in her eyes. If he caught her at just the right moment, he had an idea of what she was thinking. He saw this in the Mako the first time they faced down a Thresher Maw.

In a matter of moments, he went from missing his citation pad to watching the galaxy’s worst driver become a calm, collected tank operator. At the time, he’d admired her focus and control. As they left the Mako to confirm it was actually dead, his claws got snagged on a seatbelt. She was still at the wheel, sorting out a problem with the parking break. If she’d known he was still there, he didn’t think he’d have seen the single shaky breath she took.

“Hours at most,” Mordin said. “Communications down three hours ago, our transit time hour and a half.”

“How many do you think they’ve taken?” Shepard knelt down beside the Salarian and turned the head to examine the bullet hole. Her fingers neatly traced the jagged edge of the entry wound.

No exit wound he could see. From that range, a sniper rifle should have left the back of the head a mess. The Collector’s exoskeleton must have been tougher than it looked to disperse the energy.

“No definite data on Collector numbers. Storage space on ship uncertain. Unable to say for sure.” He calmly excised a piece of the eye and put it in a jar.  “Colony population nearly six thousand. Could be almost completely harvested, could be nearly untouched.”

“Finish examining the body, Garrus and I will scout ahead,” she said, jumping to her feet and heading towards one of the prefabs.

This was exactly what he’d left C-Sec for. No red tape or politics to get in the way of saving lives, just people doing whatever they needed to do to help people. Cerberus and their goals might have made him uncomfortable, but nobody could tell him he was doing the wrong thing.

He followed her up a ladder to the roof. She was already setting up behind an air vent, scanning the area through her scope.

“Plan’s scrapped,” she said. “Can’t risk leaving data lying around when it won’t be picked up.”  She said it like they didn’t have a friend on the colony.

“You don’t know that.”  He set up next to her.

“Doesn’t matter. Too much of a possibility,” she said. “You think the Illusive Man’s going to just let this place go after we leave? Second we take off, there’s going to be Cerberus scientists posing as relief workers all over the place. Can’t take the risk.”

“How far to the AA towers?” he asked, adjusting his scope.

“Less than two miles,” she said. “We can cover it in fifteen minutes if we stick to the roof tops and back alleys. Keep out of sight, then we draw their attention away from the AA towers while Mordin gets them back online.”

He scanned the area, caught two colonists in a courtyard like statues reaching out for each other. “What about them?”

“We have to prioritize the big picture. The sooner we get the AA towers back online, the sooner we can get that ship off the colony,” she said.  He’d always admired that kind of cold focus, but no matter how clean he made his ops on Omega, he could never quite emulate it.

A trio of Collectors approached the colonists. His claw itched on the trigger. They were supposed to be able to take action, yet Shepard still said to wait. She wasn’t like C-Sec, she had good reasons. There could be more collectors following the first group and their mission was more important than a few individuals, but he still wanted to take the shot.

There were three collectors and two of them. They could all be dead before any of them could blink twice. He could send Mordin up in front, set up explosives, lure the collectors in with sniper fire, and create enough of a distraction to let Shepard fix the AA towers on her own.

Garrus shook his head. Shepard was still his commanding officer and this wasn’t his operation. He was a bad Turian, but he didn’t think he was that bad a Turian. It was just difficult to adapt to taking orders after leading his squad for so long.

“Sufficient samples collected.” He jumped. He’d been so far down his scope that he didn’t notice Mordin climb up after them.  “Will take entire corpse when we leave.”

“Keep it on your side of the transport and we have a deal,” Shepard said. “We have a few in the air, but they’re mostly ground troops. Follow me.”

**_X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X_ **

Their plan to go unnoticed failed miserably. Just like her other plans. She’d worked so hard to take back her freedom. Then the damn Collectors had to go and throw impact wrenches into her escape.

Maybe she should have listened to the Illusive Man. Maybe she should have believed him. She’s assumed he was lying to her. It seemed to be a reasonable response. He wanted her for something more than to stop the Collectors. If he just wanted that, he could take anyone with halfway decent leadership abilities and dedication to Cerberus’ cause. Hell, he could just get Miranda to do it.

But she hadn’t listened and now she had to defend an AA Tower with no idea what she was facing. If she’d listened, if she’d learned more about the Collectors, they might not be in this mess.

Seeing the first ones just about swept her feet out from under her. She was so sure it was slavers or something else she hadn’t given the thought that the Collectors could be real its proper due. Now they were pinned in the goddamn open by aliens she knew nothing about and goddamn husks.

Once, she caught herself studying a husk’s features, looking for anything she recognized. She stopped before any thoughts on the matter could fully form. If she let herself get caught up in that, she couldn’t do her job. Besides, the Collectors apparently brought their own husks with them. No doubt the Illusive Man would let her know if he was taken to give her added incentive to focus on the mission.

She cloaked and bolted to another wall while the husks swarmed her former position. Heat scorched her back as Mordin sent an incendiary charge their way. She took aim at one of the last Collectors on the battleground.

Then it rose up and started glowing. She touched her face and traced the cybernetics scars. Lawson was evasive every time she asked about her entirely nonconsensually installed implants. Chakwas claimed she didn’t know anything about the cybernetics. Joker said that if she kept rephrasing her question in an attempt to get around EDI’s blocks, he might have to skewer her with his own splintered bones.

The Collectors were supposedly working with the Reapers. Cerberus had been playing around with husks before. They’d built an AI for her ship. A skin graft and a bit of creative programming didn’t seem too far out of line for them. Certainly easier than bringing somebody back from the dead.

She could think about it later. When she wasn’t being shot at. A disruptor round caught the glowing thing between the eyes and dropped it before it came back to the ground.

“That’s the last of them,” Garrus said. He slowly stood up from behind the wall

“EDI, how long until the towers are online?” she said.

“Power is at 95%. Will fire when ready.”

“Thank you EDI. That will be all.” She wanted to get off this colony as quickly as possible. As soon as that ship left, so would she. Maybe she’d rifle through a few safes on her way out. It never hurt to augment her budget.

Then there was more buzzing. She looked up and what looked like a massive seeker flew towards them. As it got closer, she saw the husk heads on the underbelly. One of the heads began to glow blue and looked straight at her.

“Well that’s not good,” she said before activating her cloak.

She skittered around the corner, barely making it behind the wall before the thing’s laser cut through the air. Concrete dust left a chalky taste in her mouth as she coughed on it. It shrieked and she clamped her hands down over her ears.

“Fascinating. Sonar based weaponry. If not in mortal peril, would like to perform further studies,” Mordin said. She looked back up at it. It shimmered a faint blue.

Sharp pain erupted in her head as Garrus fired at it. “It’s not taking any damage,” Garrus said, dropping back into cover beside her. His voice was muffled and dull.

“I can avoid the weapons Mordin, you know anything about that barrier?” she said. White dust coated her body. She could still see her hands. She already did not like being able to see her hands.  “What are we dealing with? Biotics? Some kind of nano-tech?”

“Barrier seems to be biotic in nature. Uncommonly…”

The thing started screaming again. The mouths on the dozen husk heads on its belly hung open in a grotesque death choir. She quickly made a note to improve noise dampening systems in their helmets in the future.

“Mordin, assessment of Collector exoskeleton!” she said. “Any weak points?”

“Base of skull and major joints seem less armored than rest of body,” he replied. “Also susceptible to flammable…inflammable…-doesn’t matter, same thing, still as susceptible to fire as most organics.”

She tried to dust off as much as possible. “Draw it away from the tower and if that barrier drops, I want you to shred its wings, then focus fire on the joints.” Ground it, immobilize it, make it an easy target. Keep moving and keep hitting it until it stopped moving. Then hit it a few extra times for good measure because she’d learned from experience that she did not like dead things getting back up.

**_X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X_ **

She was already walking away, ignoring Delan’s angry ranting. She’d played dead for two years. She even got Garrus in on her act. Then she didn’t have the decency to face him and explain what was going on.

She hadn’t destroyed the colony, but she was still Cerberus. Maybe she hadn’t been responsible for destroying the Normandy, but she was responsible for everything afterwards. She’d used the Normandy’s destruction and their crewmates’ death in order to go work for a terrorist organization.

“Don’t you fucking walk away from me, who the hell do you think you are?” the mechanic screamed.  

“Commander Shepard,” he said. His legs were still stiff. He couldn’t hope to catch her if she ran. “Captain of the Normandy, the First Human Spectre, Savior of the Citadel. You’re in the presence of a legend Delan.” 

She spun around and there was a flash of something like relief in her eyes. This close, he could see the hollowness in her cheeks and the absence of the worry and frown lines on her face. The almost ever present dark circles were worse than ever. Concrete dust lent an unnatural pallor to her skin and gray patches to her hair and there were splotches of green blood all over her. Somehow, she’d lost the scar cutting through her eyebrow and most of her forehead. 

No matter what she’d done, knowing she was alive and seeing her in person were two very different things. She took a step towards him and he thought his heart stopped.

She looked like a ghost and as he held her, he was afraid she’d go straight through him.

**_X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X_ **

It almost felt like a dream. Her legs were tense and she knew she should run, but for just a second, she let a familiar warmth spread through her. He still smelled like medi-gel menthol and biotic static. He still gave the best hugs in the galaxy. His breathing was steady and she could feel his heartbeat through his armor. He was alive. It was all she needed to know.

She wanted to hold on and let herself feel safe for a few moments more. She knew better though. This couldn’t last. It never would have been able to last. She’d loved him, whether it was two years ago or a month ago, it didn’t matter. It was over now.

Maybe before she would have let him take her into custody, but now she knew better. The Illusive Man was right and the Collectors were real. They were taking humans and she was the only one posed to do anything about it.

Her mind wandered back to the untouched flashdrive in her pocket and the data. She could have it all back. A life, her not necessarily good but certainly decent name, freedom. All she had to do was convince him to listen. She couldn’t pretend like it would all go back to the way it was before, but she would be _free._

And hundreds of other colonies like this one would be in danger from the Collectors. Then they’d come for her all over again. They’d kill her again. Then Cerberus would probably reboot her again.

She knew all the Alliance’s tricks. Hell, she’d practically written the advanced manual. She could run from them for as long as she needed and she’d yet to have the thrill of being on the other end of the chase.

Right now, she needed Cerberus too much to risk the data falling into Alliance hands. She needed their resources and their ingenuity. They let her work the way she was supposed to.  The way she hadn’t since before Akuze. She got used to it all over again when she was inducted to the Spectres. Then she caught Saren and all of a sudden, she found herself hamstrung by the red tape she used to weave into fine webs.

“I thought you were dead Shepard. We all did.” He loosened his hold on her for a second and she jumped away.

It was one thing to know Cerberus had spent two years dragging her through the mud. It was another entirely to see someone who was normally so happy to see her look at her with the kind of disgust and rage etched on Kaidan’s face.

Even when it was awkward and neither of them knew what constituted friendly chatter and what was playing a dangerous game with regs, he was always happy to see her. Even when they didn’t see eye to eye, they always respected each other. This was a knife in the back. 

“It’s been too long Kaidan,” she said. No matter how it felt like her chest was being crushed, she had to keep control.

“Is that all you have to say? You show up after two years and act like nothing’s happened?” he said. There was an uncomfortable amount of venom in his voice. “Thinking you were dead tore me apart. How could you put everybody through that?”

“Not my decision. I died.” Her fingers curled into a fist. She couldn’t control what Cerberus had done to her image. She couldn’t control what she had to do. She could control how she reacted. She didn’t get angry. “Cerberus body snatched me and I spent the last two years in a coma while they rebuilt me. I didn’t have any control over the situation.”

“So you’re really with Cerberus now?” he spat. He didn’t believe her and she didn’t have any proof to convince him otherwise. No. She could. The right words, the right tone, she could convince anybody of anything. She’d convinced an indoctrinated Spectre to shoot himself in the head. Making Kaidan believe in her should be easy compared to that.

“It’s not my choice,” she said. She stepped back and her calves tensed. He seemed unsteady, but she needed to be ready to run. She wanted to explain everything, but she couldn’t take the chance he’d give what she told him to the Alliance. She couldn’t afford to weaken Cerberus.

“And you Garrus? You saw what they did. You know what they are,” he said. “I can’t believe the reports were right…” 

“Reports? You mean you knew?” Garrus said.

“Alliance Intel thought Cerberus was behind the missing colonies. We got reports of Cerberus activity here,” he said. They’d only been on the colony for a few hours. She should tell him that they had a mole. She didn’t.  “We got reports you broke into Anderson’s office. He stonewalled me, wouldn’t even tell me if you were really alive. The rest of the council wants the Alliance to take care of you.”

“And are you going to?” Garrus started to step between the two of them and she waved him off. She didn’t think Kaidan had it in him to kill her and he had to know she could get away if she chose to run. “Look Kaidan, human colonies are disappearing outside of Alliance jurisdiction. Cerberus is the only organization positioned to take care of that.”  

“And you trust them? You know what they are! You know what they’re capable…you know what? Forget it. You knew all that when you ran to them, why would you care now?” There was barely a foot between them. “I loved you. I thought I knew you…I was wrong. You turned your back on everything. You betrayed the Alliance. You betrayed me…”

“I died!” she said. “You know that! You were on the coms!” He flinched. “I know this is crazy, I know I have no proof, but you know me! I’ve lied to a lot of people, but never to you!”

“I want to believe you Shepard, but that’s the thing. I know you.” Rage bubbled in her chest. Cerberus had taken one of the few honest relationships in her life and twisted it. She’d made their job easy too. She told Kaidan exactly who she was and Cerberus let her speak for herself.

“You saw the Collectors abducting colonists!” she said, jabbing a finger at him. She took a moment to center herself. She had to keep calm. She did not shout. She did not lose her temper. She was better than that. “The Collectors are targeting human colonists. They brought their own husks. They’re working for the Reapers and the Alliance hasn’t done a thing about it.”

“You think Cerberus will?” he said.

“Damn it Kaidan!” Garrus said. “You’re so focused on Cerberus you’re ignoring the real threat!”

“You’re being too emotional about this,” she said. “Think about it logically. Cerberus has the resources and the freedom to do something about the Collectors. If I’m working with them, it’s just business.”  

“Was Pressley just business?” She drew back and straightened her spine. “And what about the rest of the crew? Were they acceptable collateral?”

“It wasn’t like that,” she said. This was exactly why she didn’t want to see him. This was the wrong place and time for this conversation. She needed an environment she could control. It’d only been a month, things were too…no. Two years. She was dead for two years.

“What was it like then? The Alliance wouldn’t promote you so you turned and ran the first chance you got! You just had to make it look good. It wasn’t just me you hurt, nobody’s even heard from Joker in almost a year!” She wanted to tell him she’d heard way too much from Joker.

“I didn’t run,” she said. She wasn’t quite sure why she was sticking around anymore, maybe she just didn’t want to leave this in a bad place. Two years suddenly felt like a very long time. “You’re letting your feelings get in the way of the facts. I know how this looks, but if you would just calm down and listen to me.”

“I’m trying.” He really sounded like he wanted to believe her. “I’m grateful for what you did for this colony, but I can’t trust Cerberus. I’m an Alliance soldier, I know where my loyalties lie. Goodbye Shepard. Be careful.”

He turned and started to walk away and her pocket felt very heavy. She could still give it to him. Tell him to hold onto it. It would take them a long time to break the encryption. Maybe she could finish off the Collectors before they got the data. No. She couldn’t take the chance. The last thing she needed was to be waiting just outside the Omega 4 relay when they acted on the data.

She would need more help to combat the Collectors. He wouldn’t be easy to convince.  She’d always admired his loyalty and integrity, but she could do it. The right words, the right promises. Make him understand he was wrong about her death, poison him against the Alliance, remind him of their involvement in Akuze, and convince him to follow her back to the ship. She could do it. She wanted to do it. All she had to do was open her mouth and start talking.

But she’d made a promise to herself as he helped her out of Sovereign’s wreckage on the Presidium. While he checked her over, she told herself she wouldn’t lie to him. She wouldn’t use him. She wouldn’t manipulate him. It felt a step too far to convince him to leave the Alliance for Cerberus.

She was practical. She could survive it if he hated her. She’d already planned out a future that didn’t involve him. She still deserved to say goodbye.

“Kaidan,” she said. He stopped. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”


	14. In All Chaos there is Calculation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Mira Shepard continues to have a very bad day

"The Collectors will be more careful now, but I think we can find another way to lure them in…" The Illusive Man wanted to see her squirm. He wanted to see her react to the knowledge that he'd put her former squadmate in danger. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

She would rather have this conversation via voice call rather than quantum entanglement. Then she could pace or do something to keep herself calm without him being able to see it. After her encounter with Kaidan, it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep herself in check.

She folded her arms behind her back and clenched her fist. After this, she'd planned on working with Jacob to design better sound dampeners for their helmets. Maybe she'd run on the treadmill until she was too tired to want to punch something instead.

The Illusive Man had taken a risk luring the Collectors to the Horizon colony, but it was one she understood. If it were just another colony, she would have stood her ground negotiating and wasted time getting there, perhaps turning it into another, "I'll get to it when I get to it," type of situation. She would arrive on scene long after the Collectors left and leave without any more evidence than when she arrived.

By using Kaidan as bait, he made sure she would pay a semblance of attention to the colony. She'd see the Collectors for herself and save as many colonists as she felt was reasonable. If he didn't survive, then the Illusive Man could use her guilt over her inaction to ignite her motivation to find and stop the Collectors.

"If we want to combat them, we'll need a better plan. Using my former coworkers as bait to draw them to a colony to gather information seems wasteful," she said. "Say nothing about wasting colonists, I'm going to run out of coworkers eventually."

"I want you to understand Shepard, preventing attacks on our colonies are why I want the Collectors stopped," he replied. His cigarette looked better by the second. "I'm devoting all resources to finding a way through the Omega 4 relay. We have to hit them where they live."

"And I trust you'll forward everything you know about the Collectors to me," she said. They'd started glowing like her scars. Cerberus played with Reaper tech before. "I can't do my job without information."

"I've said it before Shepard, I want nothing more than your success. I'll give you everything you need," he said. He wouldn't give her what she wanted though. Reassurance she wouldn't become like Saren. "Your team will need to be strong. As will their resolve. The same goes for you Commander. Can I assume you've put your past relationships behind you?"

"It's difficult to put something behind you if it never existed in the first place. If Lieutenant…" Commander. She should have remembered that. She'd recommended him for promotion two years ago. "…Commander Alenko misinterpreted the nature of our relationship, it's none of my concern." Her nails bit into her palm.

"Good. Once we find our way through the Omega 4 relay to the Collector homeworld, there's no guarantee you'll return…"

"With all due respect Sir, it belittles both of us to pretend I'm stupid," she said. "You invested too much in me to treat me as a disposable resource and we both know that even if I have to pilot this ship back alone, I will come back." Dying hadn't changed her ironclad will to survive. It just made her seem a little less competent. She hated incompetence. "You have plans for me after this mission is over. I'm ready to hear them."

Kaidan said it himself. The Council wanted the Alliance to clean up their mess. She was many things, but she wasn't delusional. She wasn't going to be able to give them some data, make a deal, and go home. She should have ignored Anderson's message, but she wasn't thinking straight. He'd gotten better at the game in her absence, assured her he would help as much as he could, and then stabbed her in the back.

She'd been planning to go home and all along, there'd never been a home to go home to. Someone else was likely living in her apartment on Arcturus station by now. People she thought she could trust wanted her dead. She was pretty sure she was made of husk parts. If her psychiatrist wasn't likely to turn her in, she'd make an appointment in a heartbeat.

"Shepard, you need to be realistic about your odds," he said. He pressed his fingertips to his forehead.

"And I also need to know I have a reason to go through with this in the first place. Certain death isn't a good motivator," she said. "If you just wanted someone to defeat the Collectors, you could find somebody qualified without having to spend the time and resources you did me. You wanted me for a reason. Let's talk job prospects."

"You're an icon for humanity Shepard." That was a dangerous kind of statement. She'd already been made useless through idolatry once. Too valuable as a media piece to risk, too many skeletons in her closet to promote. "There's no denying that if you survive this mission, you could be a valuable asset to Cerberus. However, there still some who would question your suitability…"

"My files speak for themselves Sir." The Alliance forgot that they gave her the skeletons in the first place. She'd never wanted to wipe the red out of her ledger, just disappear into work she was very good at.

"Your qualifications aren't in question Shepard, your loyalty on the other hand…" Blood beaded at her fingertips. He wasn't wrong.

"We've had our difficulties in the past, but after what I've seen, I've come to accept the Collectors as the threat they are. Cerberus is willing to do something about it, the Alliance isn't, and you've been more than generous in regards to compensation. I can respect that," she said. "I'll see to it that they're destroyed and afterwards, I see no reason that we can't continue a mutually beneficial relationship."

"We'll see about that Shepard," he said, narrowing his eyes and knocking ashes from the end of his cigarette. "I've forwarded three more dossiers. Keep building your team while I find a way through the relay."

"Thank you," she said. "When it's all said and done, I look forwards to working with you."

"Be careful Shepard. Just remember, the Collectors will be watching you," he said. The sun behind him set his silhouette ablaze for a moment, then he vanished. More than the Collectors were watching.

She leaned on the desk and hung her head. The glass edge cracked under her grip and she stepped back, leaving bloody smudges. She tried to wipe the smear off the table, but only made it worse.

She reminded herself that she still had work to do and sent a message to Mordin asking for peroxide and paper towels. She needed to get herself under control if she faced the crew. Paperwork would help with that. Paperwork never failed to calm her down.

Daniels and Donnelly sent over the requested reports after they left Horizon. Garrus' improvements to the guns hadn't significantly changed the power draw, but they needed to be constantly recalibrated. She got about a third of the way through before she closed it again and touched her scars.

There was supposed to be coffee when she read over reports. Miranda swore they weren't going to drug her and if they wanted to bring her into the hivemind, they likely had a better option waiting to go.

Jacob was already waiting for her outside the coms room when she finally felt as if she'd pulled herself together enough to leave.

"Mordin's data on the Collector creature, henceforth referred to as Praetorian" she said, handing him a datapad. "The Praetorian was observed to have deadly sonic weaponry. Lieutenant, I want ameliorated sound dampening on our helmets before we face one again in order to facilitate improved close quarters combat."

"I'll see what I can do Commander." He sounded distant. Whatever was distracting him, he would have to sort it out before they had to go on a mission again. "This is it. We're really going to take it to them in person."

"That is the plan," she said.

"Seeing what happened on Horizon, it really hits you," he said. "Makes you think about what we're up against."

"I suppose," she said. It was certainly making her think about her place in the galaxy. "I need you at your best Jacob."

"I understand Commander," he replied. "Just got some things to think about…people I'm leaving behind…"

"I'm sure you can take care of it," she said. If she wanted future success, she would need to win over her Cerberus squadmates. Burning bridges never paid. "You're a good man. Under other circumstances, I'd be pleased to have you at my side."

"Also makes you think about what we're doing this for," he said. He started scrolling through her data. "Kinda wish I could go see my mom again, tell her how grateful I am for everything she's done for me."

"That's the price you pay for our line of work," she said. "You don't have loved ones, you have coworkers. But the galaxy needs people like us. People who can do whatever has to be done to make sure the rest of them can sleep at night. So you have to ask yourself if giving your mother the galaxy she deserves is worth it."

"I know," he said. "Between the Corsairs and well," he gestured to the ship around them, "I've never been able to tell her what I'm up to. She raised me on her own and I just want her to know that everything I am, it's because of her."

"It gets easier," she said. It used to be easy for her. It should still be easy. Once she gave herself time to evaluate what happened, it would be easy. "Before you go, I would like to apologize for my previous behavior. I haven't been taking our job seriously enough and in the future, I will be up to my usual standards of administrative performance. Dismissed."

Jacob went back to the armory and left her on her own. She raised her fingers to lips. She didn't realize what she was doing until she was confused she didn't draw smoke. She hadn't smoked in fifteen years. After the month she just had, she thought she could justify a lapse in discipline.

The cigarettes in her desk were the kind of cheap trash a seventeen year old wannabe drug lord bought. If she ever had an excuse to bum something better off Zaeed, today would do it. On her way down, she opened her email to check the dossiers and her knees nearly gave out.

_Commander:_

_The Alliance soldier here gave me this contact information - I hope this reaches you._

She hadn't given Kaidan her contact information. Yet somehow he'd obtained it and gave it to people looking for their missing friends and families. Like she would do something about it.

Her eyes stung and her chest heaved. She gripped the rail until the metal twisted in her hands and she pushed back whatever emotion was coming out of its box. It didn't matter. It was a security leak. Nothing more.

There was only one person who'd see what happened on the colony, had his contact information, and was impulsive enough to do something as stupid as giving the enemy her email. She was going to have to talk to Garrus about this.

_**X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X** _

There was nothing good about Miranda's job and she'd accepted that long ago. This was a big galaxy and there were countless threats to humanity's place in it. If it meant sacrificing a few test subjects for the greater good, she could live with that. If it meant organizing attacks on enemy settlements, she could live with that. If protecting humanity from alien threats meant she would be remembered as a terrorist, then so be it.

She could do the Illusive Man's dirty work all damn day if she had to. She didn't mind.

However, if she had to replace the monitors on Shepard's hardsuit again, she might have to crack open that fancy bottle of merlot Gardener thought he was keeping a secret.

She could stop whenever she wanted to. She should stop as it was without a doubt a waste of her time and money. She'd rather budget her remaining savings into protecting Oriana than throw them away purchasing high end monitoring devices. Yet one of her responsibilities on this mission was to report back to the Illusive Man regarding Shepard's activities, which was difficult when Shepard didn't want her monitoring her activities. If she gave up, it meant that Shepard won. If she gave up, it meant that Shepard was better than her.

Since Lorek, she'd been more compliant, but it only made Miranda more nervous. Even if she opened the tank, making later studies far more complicated, she allowed them to take the Krogan onboard. She'd stopped requesting for her to fire Moreau and Chambers and she stopped pushing for daily departmental reports and budgets filed in her so damn important folders. She'd openly allied herself with Cerberus on Horizon, yet Miranda still got the feeling that there was something wrong.

Still, as distasteful and annoying as this task was, she was almost grateful for the brief distraction it provided. She'd only ever seen the aftermath of Collector attacks. This reminded her of what they were fighting to protect. Her father was closing in on Oriana and she could only protect her for so much longer.

She was unlikely to get out of this alive. Even in the event that she survived the initial assault on the Collector base, there was still the nagging thought she had whenever she looked at Shepard's files. As she rebuilt Shepard, the more Miranda studied her, voices in her head whispered that the Illusive Man was going to replace her as his second in command. Cerberus was not famous for its retirement packages.

Even if the Illusive Man wasn't planning to replace her, there was still Shepard and Subject Zero to worry about. The Collector homeworld would be a dangerous place and things that looked like accidents happened. She at least had the reassurance that Subject Zero didn't have the intelligence to make it look like an accident.

Her sister had to be protected and provided for. Oriana's mother took the job on Bekenstein, now it was just a matter of getting them there safely. The most vulnerable point would be the hand off. She couldn't leave this ship for long enough to oversee their transport. She'd found the man power to give her sister some semblance of protection from their father until she got to her new home, but if something went wrong, she couldn't be there to help.

She hadn't seen her sister in person since she placed her with her adopted family. Every time she checked in on her, she was more and more grateful to her parents. Oriana had friends, went to slumber parties and school dances. Her biggest worry was a math test. She had such a beautifully normal life. It pained her to uproot her sister from that, but it was the only way to make sure she didn't become a mad man's living doll.

She was prepared to die for humanity. She was prepared to die for her sister. If their mission didn't succeed, nothing else she did for Oriana would matter. She just had to have faith that all her careful planning and her faith in Niket paid off.

She carefully threaded the key logger's wires into Shepard's left hand gauntlet. It was easier to focus on the mission when she had something in her hands. She'd once wired everything through Shepard's airline and CO2 scrubbers, thinking that it'd keep her from messing with the monitors. Instead, it just made her very good at picking apart her suit and putting it back together.

She set the piece down and was about to start wiring the video monitors into Shepard's chestplate when she noticed the weight was off. There was something in Shepard's pocket. Her heart was in her throat as she stared at the drive in her hand. Shepard had a former ally on Horizon. Whatever she brought back, it couldn't be good.

"EDI, scan this for viruses," she said. Better safe than sorry. Especially where Shepard was concerned.

When EDI reported it clean, she plugged it into her datapad. The files were all encrypted she wouldn't have expected anything less, but she could hack that. Shepard was not half as infallible as she thought she was.

It wasn't long before the encrypted data from Lorek started to scroll across her screen. She should have installed the control chip and damned the consequences.

_**X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X** _

After today, the main battery seemed a refuge. He'd spent what felt like hours trying to scrub Collector blood off of him. He'd even found a bit of chitin in his crest. Even through his boots, the floors were still cold. He considered getting a snack, but he didn't want to listen to Gardener squawk about how difficult it was to get dextro rations, even though Shepard controlled all procurement, or make small talk with Hawkins.

He checked the diagnostics on the main guns. Cerberus gave them much higher fire power, but they didn't consider the recoil and every time they fired, it threw off the aim a little more. Even the improvements he made didn't totally fix the problem. There was a bolt that without fail came loose every damn time they fired and each time the made an FTL jump, it seemed to throw off the targeting matrix. Without better knowledge of the underlying engineering, constant calibrations were the only way to fix the problem.

As he opened his tool kit, he found himself missing Tali. He was a good mechanic, could fix problems whenever they came up. She could find the engineering issue and make sure it never came up again. He was always surprised at how pleasant he found fixing the Mako with her.

He was still using the set Donnelly loaned him when he first came onboard and while they were good tools, they were designed with far too many fingers in mind for him to use them effectively. He kept forgetting to buy Turian tools when they were on Omega. Every time, there was some new injustice to right or problem to fix and it felt like all his work hadn't made a bit of difference.

"Garrus." A chill ran through him and he dropped his wrench. Shepard's voice said idle curiosity, but still cut like ice and flipped his gizzard. "You gave Kaidan my email."

He spun around and at first, only saw the glowing orange bits in the shadows. She leaned on the wall next to the door. He had no way to know how long she'd been waiting. She could have been there moments or she could have been there since they left Horizon.

"I told him to pass on anything he found about the Collectors after the attack," he said, picking up the wrench.

"And you thought you could give someone who would arrest me and have me executed if he had the chance my email?" Somehow, he found she was less intimidating than usual as she walked towards him.

"I didn't think you'd be mad about intel…" Her step lacked its usual tightly coiled energy.

"I'm not mad," she said, sitting down on the railing. She almost seemed to deflate. "I'm just…I'm not sure Garrus. I'm too tired to be mad."

"You know that you could fix that by sleeping instead of working around the clock," he said, hopping up beside her on the rail. "Or maybe eating something you didn't take out of a dead mercenary's pocket."

"You'd rather have me mad than tired?" she said, raising an eyebrow. "I don't think sleep would help with this anyway. It's been a hell of a month Garrus…" She rubbed her shoulder. "Now, I just lost my best friend and partner and…I'm sorry. You don't need to hear this."

"It's alright," he said, gently laying his claws on her shoulder. He'd noticed she didn't particularly like to be touched, but humans tended to find it comforting. "It's been a hell of a month." She didn't flinch.

"Even so, this isn't your job," she said. He'd never heard her like this before, her voice was normally a low, but bright caw. Now it was just dull, like all the energy had been taken out of her. He almost couldn't believe that the same woman only a few hours ago excitedly explained how they were going to get away from Cerberus.

Objectively, he knew Shepard was a person, just like any other. Yet she made it so easy to forget. She was able to sneak up on anybody, could hack into anything, could become anyone. She had back up plans for her back up plans. She didn't let people see her crack. Even Sovereign and Virmire didn't throw her off for long. Even when things seemed so hopeless, she still had a card up her sleeve. Seeing her like this didn't seem right.

"I know you're not going to talk to anybody else so I'm here if you need me," he said. Her shoulders hung short of limp and she stared at the floor between her feet. "We're in this together Shepard."

The pulse of the drive core reverberated in the battery as they sat on the rail. He turned the wrench over in his claws and she steepled her fingers on her lap and he could almost see her thinking about what she said next. He could tell it made her uncomfortable enough that now people knew about her and Kaidan and she was notoriously private. He almost didn't believe she was even considering taking him up on his offer.

"I guess we are," she said. "The one person who I want to talk to about this hates me and the worst part of it? I  _understand_." She made a bitter noise he didn't realize at first was laughter. "If I was in his place, I would have shot me. He thinks I lied to him and I don't have anything to prove I didn't…"

"The Collectors should have been proof enough." It certainly proved that their mission wasn't a pyjak chase. He almost thought he should ask what Kaidan sent her because when they came back onboard, she didn't seem fine but she wasn't this off-keel. She didn't respond well to prying.

"But it's not," she said. "And I can't fix it. I could have, but I didn't. It feels like it's only been a month, and I get confused. I don't even know how old I am anymore. I missed two years of my life and now…I didn't expect I'd be so annoyed by this but there's probably someone else living in my apartment, my home, and they're probably not using coasters…"

"Coasters?" he said. It seemed odd that she would fixate on the coasters, but then again, it was Shepard. According to Hawkins, first thing she did after coming onboard was start squawking about her folders.

"I spent a long time picking out that coffee table, I don't want rings on it," she said. "I was so careful when I moved in. I made all the furniture look perfectly nondescript, nothing distinctive about the décor, like I could move out one day and nobody would know who lived there before them. Then after Saren, I put my diplomas up on the wall and I got a little model Normandy…It was a stupid tourist thing from the Citadel, but I was going to put it in a bottle…"

"Why would you put a starship in a bottle?" he said. "How would you put it in a bottle?"

"It's an old earth thing. Normally you do it with sailing ships…" she said. Her lips twitched in a sad little smile, the added almost impossibly softly, "I never got a chance to build it."

"There's still time Shepard," he said. "We're going to get through this. Then you're going to keep doing the impossible and you're going to show me how to stick a stealth cruiser into a bottle."

"It won't be the same," she said. "It wasn't much, but it was my home. I thought I would be able to go back and at least have something when this was over, but…"

"You still have the Normandy," he said.

"It's not the Normandy. It's too big. The engine noise is wrong. Lawson's living in my quarters," she said. "And the crew…I don't trust any of them and half…well, if I wanted a ship full of sycophants I would have asked for it and they'd bend over backwards to give it to me, but it's what I have."

"At least they're all competent," he said. There was another bitter caw that she passed as a laugh.

"Almost every time I meet someone I thought I knew, they either walk away or want to kill me." She ran her fingers through her hair. "That doesn't bother me, but every time I'm surprised. I should see it coming. I should be prepared but…"

"You weren't planning on seeing Kaidan at all on Horizon," he reminded her. He wasn't wasn't any good at comforting people and it was surreal that the Commander needed a shoulder to cry on, but he would try.

He wondered if he should ask Hawkins if they had any human alcohol onboard. Someone, somewhere probably did. Maybe he'd offer to take her out for drinks on Omega the next time they stopped. Or black market office supplies. Maybe the firing range. Or help her send a sternly worded email back. Whichever would make her happier.

"But I know what this looks like and I should have planned for it or I should have been able to adapt to it. I shouldn't have stayed to talk," she said. "I could have made him listen, but I didn't. I had to go and get a conscience. I used to be able to talk anyone into anything, but now I think I've lost my edge."

"You're still one of the best Shepard," he said. "You taught me a lot. I don't think I would have had half as much success on Omega if I was still going off and shooting at shuttles without thinking it through."

She traced her fingers over the partially healed scars. She grimaced, then asked, "Garrus, how did you know I was really me?"

"When I first saw you, I thought you were a ghost," he confessed. He'd been holed up for almost three days at that point. He'd been shot a few times, was running low on medigel, and had run out of water almost a day ago. His mouth was dry as Palaven's salt flats and another merc clipped him. As the blood ran through his claws, he wasn't thinking about what was coming over the bridge, he just wanted a drink.

There were explosions and something he wasn't quite sure was really there moving across the bridge. Then there she was, like she stepped out of thin air, and he knew that wherever she was going to take him, he would follow. Waking up on the Normandy, he thought he'd followed her into the great unknown.

"Maybe I am," she said. "I'm not sure anymore. I ran off into a burning ship to save somebody there was no chance of saving without double checking my equipment, then I couldn't fix what went wrong. I died because I was an idiot." There was something oddly comforting about the sound of steel returning to her voice, even with the subject material.

"I don't think Joker would agree with that," he said.

"That's because he survived," she said. "I'm not saying what I did was wrong, just stupid. So incredibly stupid, like I bought into that propaganda about what a great hero I am. Then I put a month of work into a plan that wasn't going to go anywhere and couldn't convince one person that I actually died, so I need to know. Am I who I think I am?"

"On Omega, I thought we were both dead," he said. This wasn't the direction he expected this conversation to take and he didn't know what to say to convince her that she was real when he wasn't sure he was. "I think watching you take medigel from a first aid kit in a plague district really convinced me. You're really Commander Shepard. Flaws and all."

"You sure?" she said. She tucked a bit of her hair behind her ear and brushed up against the scars again. He thought he had a pretty good idea of where she thought she stood in regards to her many, many flaws. You couldn't fake that kind of confidence.

"I'm sure," he replied. "Not even Cerberus would waste their time trying to program you to steal everything that wasn't nailed down, then steal the nails, and then claim it as Spectre requisitions." Her laughter still sounded bitter, but he now suspected that that was how it was supposed to sound.

"I don't know what the hell I did to keep you around, but I'm glad I did," she said, nudging him with her elbow. Her shoulders still slouched, but she seemed like there was a little more energy in her.

"Nowhere else I'd rather be," he said.

"I'd rather be on a nice beach, taking my well-earned vacation, but that's not going to happen," she said. She'd mentioned it a few times, but he couldn't picture her on vacation. "At least, not for a while."

"You really think we're going to make it out of the Collector base alive?" he said.

"I'm sure as hell not going to die again," she said. There used to be sun-mottling all over her face, now there was only scars. She seemed very sure of it, but he found he didn't have it in him to investigate why.

"What was it like when you died?" he asked. She rolled her shoulder.

"I remember a lot of choking. I thought I dislocated my shoulder again, didn't realize until I tried to move it that it was broken...not much else…" She trailed off and for a moment, she looked distant. "Turns out oxygen deprivation does things to your memory."

"Not died-died. After." He'd never been particularly devout, but after everything that happened, he still had doubts as to his own survival. He'd expected to see the rest of his squad on the other side and apologize to them for his mistakes. He was their leader, he was responsible for them. Instead, he misjudged Sidonis' suitability for the job and everyone else paid for it.

She sighed and turned to him. "I'm not sure. It was like falling asleep. Then I woke up on an operating table and Lawson said to start shooting."

"When you woke up, how did you know you were alive?" he asked. The wrench in his claws suddenly felt very heavy.

"I didn't realize I'd died," she said, rubbing the back of her neck and staring up at the ceiling. "Not at first. Then Jacob told me what happened and it all felt like a bad dream, but I know it's not and I have to keep going. I just want to take a rest."

"That's it?" he asked. His scars ached and burned and the bullet wounds in his side stung.

"I don't know what you're looking for Garrus," she said. "That's all there was."

"No lights or voices or mountains that go on forever…"

"There were lights, but there were also scalpels. Ruined the atmosphere," she said. "Why?"

"This is going to sound crazy…" She raised an eyebrow. Their whole situation was crazy. He'd been to her funeral. His neck hurt all the time and could barely turn his head to the right some days. Cerberus felt too friendly. Neither of them were half as durable as he thought they were. "It's just…are you sure you're alive?"

"Does it matter? It feels like it and I want to keep living," she said.

"And if we're not?" he asked. She was undead, he was scarred for life, and neither as durable as they thought they were.

"Then maybe this is all there is Garrus," she said. "Maybe you die, wake up on a Cerberus operating table, and they put you to work."

"Sounds like a crappy afterlife," he said. He wouldn't have chosen it for himself. He would have included a better bar.

"Yeah," she said, leaning back and putting an arm around his shoulder. "But at least if it is, we're stuck here together."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to get up. The holidays were wicked busy and I know this isn't quite what I wanted it to be, but I also need to be done with it and move on. Updates might be a bit slow going forwards. I'm doing my best. I really am. 
> 
> Thank you to everybody who's commented or reviewed or anything. It all makes writing this much easier and more rewarding.


	15. No Time for the Afterthought

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Which Commander Mira Shepard's Patience is Tested

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to all my wonderful reviewers and everybody who's favorited, followed, kudos'ed, what have you.
> 
> Edit: Went back, added some things because I'm writing what I want.

The morning wasn't much better than the night before, but it was still better. Garrus brought her a bowl of instant oatmeal last night that helped more than she expected it to. She was stiff and sore from sleeping on the couch, but at least she'd gotten a full five hours. Her clothes smelled like cigarette smoke and her mouth had an unpleasant cottony feel, but her head felt clearer than it had in months.

She knew what she had to do. It wouldn't do for Cerberus to doubt her loyalty now.

She'd responded to the offending email with a sufficiently realistic, "The address you are trying to reach does not exist," message from an official looking account to keep anybody from trying again.

The morning wasn't much better, it still felt like there was a gaping wound where Kaidan used to be and she still didn't know what she'd been rebuilt with, but it was a new day and she still had a job to do and that made a world of difference. She could box up Horizon, just like she did Akuze, learn from it, and move on.

She'd watched too many people get caught up trying to change the past to want that for herself. Anderson was so lost in it that he tried to relive it through her. Look how well that turned out for him. Stripped of his command and stuck with a job he didn't know how to do because she wanted a councilor she could manipulate more easily than Udina. So she took her normal run, covered up the dark circles, had another cigarette with her morning Sudoku and coffee, and still had time to get another espresso before she took Garrus on morning rounds.

She spent most of the morning suffering pitying looks and giving firm, but polite reminders that she preferred not to discuss her personal life at work. If things proceeded as she expected, as soon as this mission was over and she took over the ship properly, she would be sure to replace her crew with decidedly less familiar personnel.

"When we're done in Engineering, I want your opinion on the new dossiers," she said, leading the way into the elevator. She'd skimmed them and she had her preferences, she suspected she had unfinished business with Thane and she already knew Tali's answer, but a second opinion never hurt.

"Who are we looking at?" Garrus said.

"We've got an assassin, I'm pretty sure Samara's an Asari bounty hunter, and Tali," she said, sipping at her coffee. No point in hiding it, he'd see the dossiers anyway. "I think I had a run in with the assassin once." She started scrolling through the dossier again, his face looked familiar. "Nearly blew my entire mission."

"What happened?" Garrus asked. She'd discussed things like this with Mordin. Always couched in hypotheticals, vague enough that whatever they were saying could mean absolutely nothing. Her debt to the Systems' Alliance had been repaid with interest. Any oaths she swore, any NDAs she signed, they were all rendered meaningless the moment they wanted her dead and she had some good stories. This unfortunately wasn't one of them.

"I'd infiltrated a Batarian compound, making copies of privateer movements and anything else I could get my hands on, deleting whatever data they had on our operatives, I was in the server room, just about to finish up, when everybody started shouting about a dead general and the alarms went off. That ruined half my escape plans right there. Next thing I know, I'm in the vents and something glowing is crawling out of the dark towards me…" She was certain it was the same Drell. You didn't forget an encounter like that.

"Don't tell me you screamed," he said. He flared his mandibles in what was best translated as a smirk, but the emotion didn't quite reach his eyes. He was putting on a very light-hearted, gung-ho mask this morning and she wasn't quite sure it was for her benefit or his. If it meant keeping both of them from spiraling, she was more than happy to play along.

"Worse." She was never going to hear the end of it. The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. "I backed up and forgot that there was a vertical drop behind me. I fell into a laundry room, then I almost got captured. I had to hijack a laundry van to escape."

"I'm more concerned about your driving than anything else in that story," he said. He started to laugh, then flinched and rubbed at his scars.

"Bad day?"

"Better than you were having with the Batarians," he said, attempting to grin before thinking better of it.

"You can't tell me nothing like that happened to you in C-Sec," she said. "Never had to go dumpster diving for evidence…"

"And ruin my crest?" he said in mock shock and horror. She almost smiled. She definitely preferred Garrus being dramatic to having an existential crisis. "No. My first week on the force, I thought I managed to get my music synched up to my tactical visor. Somehow, I synched it to the precinct's speakers instead. While I was getting geared up for patrol, I broadcast my motivational playlist to the entire building. On the one hand, I thought my captain was going to fire me and the fifteenth ward never let me live it down, on the other, the classic song Toxic is one of Earth's few good exports…"

"Please tell me there wasn't dancing," she said. She had to stop herself from laughing at the image of a very young rookie officer Vakarian jamming out to classical music in the locker room.

"I'm going to invoke my right to remain silent," he said.

She rolled her eyes and waved herself into Zaeed's quarters. "Good morning Zaeed," she said. "How's Grunt settling in?"

"Told you Shepard, I'm not a babysitter," he said, rolling his eyes. "He's a badly socialized Krogan. How do you think it's going?"

"The hold's still in one piece," Garrus said. "Normally a good sign."

"Despite his best efforts," Zaeed added. "I've had men worse than him and he's not stupid, but he keeps trying to start fights with Jack. I'd think scaring the engineers was funny, but I don't want to clean it up if he actually eats Donnelly. Also he cheats at cards."

"Would you say he's manageable?" she said. She could work with whatever else he could throw at her, so long as she could ultimately keep him under control.

"Barely," Zaeed said. "Like you said, wouldn't turn my back on…" The floor rattled and there was a loud banging from downstairs. "Oh for the love of…Jack put him down!"

"How do you know…" Garrus asked.

"Trust me, I know." Zaeed rolled his eyes. "If either of them is going to win in a fight…" She was sure she didn't imagine the note of pride in his voice. "Bloody kids. I leave them alone for five minutes…"

"It's turned into Saturday night outside Afterlife," Garrus said.

"Whatever you're down here for, it can wait," he said, starting to stalk off towards the lower hold. There was a faint whiff of ozone when the door opened.

"I take one night off…" She rubbed at her temple. "And Moreau wonders why I micromanage..."

"Here I was thinking that it was deep seated control issues," he replied. She rolled her eyes. "Do you want me to do something about that?" He pointed towards the floor. There was more shouting from downstairs, something about Zaeed not being paid enough for this. Jack responded by calling him old and Grunt a dumb turtle.

"I can handle it Garrus," she said. Maybe last night had been a mistake. She wasn't fragile, just worn out. She could still do her job. Besides, she was making progress with Jack. "You wait up here, it's going to be crowded. Check in with Engineering, collect hard copies of their reports from last night, remind Donnelly about the color-coding, then look over the dossiers."

Garrus nodded at her and she headed off towards the shouting.

In the last few weeks, Jack tolerated her and Zaeed in her space with only minimal vigilance. Jack hadn't tried to kill her since that first day. Their conversations were still minimal, but Jack would talk to her, even if it was just to complain that she bought the wrong kind of energy drink. She wouldn't call it trust, but from Jack she'd take what she could get. If Grunt cost her that tolerance there would be consequences.

If Grunt got out of line, she could get him back via sheer force of will. Intimidation was a crude tactic, but in this case it would work. Jack on the other hand would be more complicated if she lost control. If Jack wanted to fight her, it would be to the death. She didn't properly control her in the first place, but that would have to be rectified soon. If her employers wanted Jack, they wanted her for a reason. She'd be better able to manage what Cerberus wanted from Jack if she could manage Jack herself.

She stopped at the foot of the stairs and took in the war zone. Jack's space was normally oddly fastidious. If she hadn't seen enough soldiers make a mess out of living out of a footlocker, she'd attribute it to having very few possessions. Jack on the other hand liked her things in their place and got upset if they were touched. Jack never explained it, but she understood. It was easier to grab your things when you bolted if you knew exactly where they were. She'd once organized her things in the warehouse and her apartment the same way.

Her cot was overturned and three of the crates were broken. The Cerberus logo she cut out of a piece of armor and occasionally threw knives at lay in the middle of the floor, covered with a tattered sock. Flares of bright blue off Jack's skin mixed with the reddish lighting. A lightbulb had broken and shards of glass littered the rest of the grating, continuously ground under Jack's boots as she angrily paced. Grunt kicked at the remains of her favorite makeshift chair while Zaeed let them have it for fighting.

"…Shepard put me in charge of you and if you think that makes me responsible for your actions, think again. So if you put a hole in the hull, that's not on me because you made a choice and you can live with the goddamn consequences," he said. "Both of you can keep acting like assholes or you can get along like civilized people. You know what happens when you act like an asshole on this ship?" He rolled up his sleeve to reveal fresh, ugly burn scars, a reminder of Zorya.

Grunt caught sight of her as she made it to the bottom of the stairs. "Shepard," he said. It sounded more like a heads up that came just a little too late than a genuine greeting.

"So," she said, taking a sip of her coffee. "Mind telling me what's going on?"

"I charged her. She threw me. It was awesome!" She could only wonder why that was such a consistent reaction to being biotically thrown across the room and why the hell it kept happening on her ships. At least this time she knew about it so she could properly respond.

"Any particular reason?" The two of them didn't seem to need any particular provocation to go at it, but it never hurt to ask. "Or just wanton violence for the sake of wanton violence?"

"He kept bugging me about which one of us was stronger. I settled it," Jack said.

"It was awesome!" Grunt clarified. "This ship is full of worthy opponents!"

"So the two of you being reasonable individuals looked at the delicate instruments, vital bits of engineering, and the massive drivecore, and decided that this is where you want to settle this." Her voice was silk smooth and Jack stopped dead in her tracks to glare at her. "One month additional duties. Both of you report to Gardener at eighteen hundred." She made a note of this in her planner. "Grunt, upstairs. Meet Lieutenant Taylor in the training room in twenty minutes for combat evaluation."

She would be up there later to try out Kasumi's shadow strike technique. Using a knife instead of an omni-blade would delay overheat, giving her a little longer under cloak. If her calculations were correct, she would have a full eight seconds before it dropped, more than enough time for her to do significant damage to most enemy combatants. No way it wouldn't work, but better to test it here than in the field.

Before she worked on that, she would talk to Grunt about why one did not challenge their squadmates to a fight outside of training. He was badly socialized, but he learned fast. Teaching him simple concepts, like why fighting amongst your teammates, especially around the engines, was a bad idea, would be simple.

"I know how to fight just fi…" She straightened her back, raised a single now perfectly plucked eyebrow, and fixed him with her nearly patented death glare. "Fine." He was remarkably quiet going up the stairs and Zaeed followed him up. If Taylor approved of Grunt's abilities, she'd take him out into the field on their next mission as a field test.

"I don't need a babysitter Shepard," Jack said, still sparking as she pointed at Zaeed's retreating back. It was taking her too long to gain her trust by simple proximity. She could use Jack's anger as an opportunity. If she could convince Jack to trust people again, it would make handling whatever her employers wanted her for much easier. She found it was much easier to get people to do what you wanted when they liked and trusted you and all you needed to do was ask politely rather than threaten.

"It's not for you Jack," she said, picking up a piece of a crate and starting a pile of debris. "It's for my own peace of mind."

"Fuck you," she said, leaning up against the wall. "I don't need you."

"No, I don't think you do," she said. She started to sort through the bolts and other replacement parts that used to be in the crate. "You've been doing just fine on your own. I understand you're frustrated, but…"

"The fuck do you understand?" Jack said. There was a metallic clang as she kicked at the wall. "You paid me. I'll fight for you. I'm not going to be your friend. Get it?"

"I didn't ask you to be," she said, separating a mostly intact box of 7/8ths hex nuts. "I asked you to be my coworker and as your commanding officer, it's my responsibility to keep you safe."

"Bullshit," she said. Her biotics cracked and lashed over her body and the sharp sting of ozone bit her nose.

If Mira was anybody else, calming Jack down would have been her first priority, but she knew how to handle biotics in close quarters. Flashbangs and neural shock to disorient, then a sharp crack to the base of the skull. She would have to use a little more force for Jack, her implants were a little more durable than the standard L3s, but she was strong enough now that she didn't have to worry about it.

She needed compassion, but not coddling. Jack had been used before. She saw it coming now and if she was too nice, Jack would assume it was an act. She had to assure Jack that this was real, but there was no way to make her believe that it came from a place of genuine concern. Not yet anyway. When Jack trusted her a little more, then she could convince her that she really did care.

"Jack," she said, picking up the armor plate with the Cerberus insignia. "You don't have to trust me, but you can trust that I'm too proud to fail."

"We'll see about that Shepard," she said, kicking the wall again. "You think you're different from the rest of the Cerberus fucks? Don't forget that you're on my list too." She'd forgotten exactly who'd given her Chambers' login credentials.

"If I wanted to give you back to Cerberus, I would have left you in that cryostasis pod," she said, hanging the plate back on its hook. Jack was the sort of woman who appreciated actions more than words. "You can chose to waste your energy fighting me and everybody else on this ship or you can realize that we both want the same thing."

"And what exactly is that?" Jack's biotics died down and she glowered at her.

"Retribution." She traced her finger across a jagged knife wound in the center of the insignia. "Our enemies have us outnumbered and outgunned. Thousands were taken on Horizon because of them and they're going to continue hurting people if we don't stop them. I can't do it if my crew doesn't trust me."

The overturned cot glowed as Jack flipped it upright. "Why do you care?" She rubbed away smear on the edge with her tank top.

"Because I think you can be more than just a weapon Jack," she said. "But you have to choose."

"You don't know shit about who I am Shepard." She clenched her fists and Shepard stepped towards her, careful that Jack heard each of her footsteps. She'd learned her lesson about sneaking up on powerful biotics. Namely, that it was a terrible idea and Asari singularities were not to be messed about with.

"I'm not telling you who you have to be. Only that you have a choice," she said. Jack turned towards her, all tattoos and scars and rage and Mira held her hand out to her.

"Fine," she said, taking her hand in a vicelike grip and shaking it. "I'll try it your way, but don't think we're going to start talking about our feelings or any of that shit."

"Wouldn't dream of it, she said. Jack's hand shook a little in her grasp. "Have you had breakfast yet?"

She knew Jack kept a hoard of ration bars in one of the maintenance shafts. She also knew that just like the supply she kept in her desk on the Normandy, it was not to be touched under anything less than eminent starvation. You never knew when there was going to be an emergency.

"Yeah I had time when I wasn't putting up with that dumbass turtle," she said, stepping back and kicking a few pieces of a crate into a pile. She would take that as a no.

"Tell you what, go upstairs, get breakfast. I'll take care of this." She gestured to the mess around them. A kind gesture and a decent gauge of Jack's faith in her. If Jack didn't take her up on it, then she didn't have to waste her time cleaning. If she did, well, Jack wouldn't leave just anybody alone near her things.

"Whatever," Jack said, waving her off as she walked away. "Touch my shit, I'll kill you."

"Remind me, how are you at waiting in line?" She half expected a shockwave to catch her in the back, but it never came. So long as Shepard had some say in it, Jack would come out of this mission better than when she went in.

**_X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X_ **

Kaidan peeled the gloves from his hands and the smell of nitrile joined the perfume of blood, disinfectant, and medigel that followed him around since he set foot in the clinic. He almost reached for a fresh pair from the box next to the sink, offer to let another exhausted nurse go on break, if it meant that for a little while longer, the universe didn't revolve around her. Yet his hands had started shaking and there was a familiar twinge at the base of his skull.

His omni-tool pinged again. Kaidan glanced at it, then turned back to the bottle of disinfectant. Hackett calling again about his preliminary reports. He would take whatever kind of hell Hackett would give him for letting it go to voicemail so many times if it meant he could make a difference for the colonists.

There wasn't enough medical staff left on the colony to handle the injured. A handful of doctors, nurses, and medics couldn't handle the influx of patients and all of a sudden, he wasn't an Alliance soldier to them. The second he showed up at the clinic, Doctor Hassan took one look at his qualifications and put him to use.

As grim as it was, he was grateful for the work. Anything to keep busy. When he wasn't, his thoughts kept drifting. He'd even written half an email that he knew better than to try to send, but couldn't make himself delete.

A few weeks ago, he would have given the world to hold her just one more time. Even yesterday, he didn't want to let go. Then she gave him that bullshit line about Cerberus bringing her back from the dead. If she was going to lie to him, after all they went through together and all he thought they meant to each other, he thought he at least deserved effort.

And whatever she was doing now, she dragged Garrus into it. She let other people know she survived and it hurt almost as much joining Cerberus. Yet, some small part of him was grateful she had someone she trusted to watch her back.

She knew what Cerberus did and she ran off and joined them anyway. And for what? Because they offered more money? Because they gave her a more interesting job? Freedom?He shook his head and told himself that the why of it didn't matter. Shepard made her choice. After all, it was just business.

As much as he wanted to drown these thoughts in work, Dr. Hassan gave him the totally professional suggestion, but really not a suggestion, to be the next person to go on break. It wasn't long, just enough to get a snack and coffee, maybe curl up on a couch in the on call room for a few minutes. And as much as he wanted to argue (he was exhausted, but so was everyone else), it'd been over a day since he last slept and he wasn't sure what kind of lingering effects the Collector's neurotoxin would have.

So instead, he stood by the vending machine with one of the nurses, both going through the same motions of knowing that they should eat something, but finding nothing appealing.

"Doesn't feel right," the nurse said, slowly leaning up against the wall. "Like they're going to come back." It took Kaidan a moment to realize she was talking to him.

"Don't know," he replied, rubbing the back of his neck. He feigned interest in peanut butter crackers to avoid her searching eyes. More answers he didn't have.

"You're that Alliance guy right?" she asked. Her scrubs were stained and her voice was heavy. "That woman at the tower, she was part of your team?"

"No," he replied. It took all his will power to stay in the present, instead of thinking about coded emails and fighting at each other's back.

"Delan said you knew her." He thought that the mechanic needed to learn what the phrase, "classified," meant.

"I used to work for her," he explained. If he said anything else, a quick extranet search would disprove it in an instant. "How well do you know your boss?" He tried to keep the emotion out of his voice, but the last few words faltered. He played it off as a yawn.

"Figures. Delan's an idiot," she said, settling on some kind of granola bar. "Look, thanks for what you're doing. Helping out here. Maybe you Alliance types don't all suck."

"Thanks," he said, giving her a tired smile. "That really means a lot." She pinned a couple of strands of her dark, coiled hair back into her bun before shuffling off towards the coffee maker.

He was still debating between peanut butter crackers and trail mix when his omni-tool pinged again. He had no more excuses to put this off. The closest he could get to appropriate levels of privacy was a supply closet.

"Admiral," he said, opening the vid call. "I'm sorry I haven't been able to respond. Lots of injured on the colony following the attack, got caught up in the clinic."

"Given your reports, there'll be time for explanations later," he replied. "What's the colony's status?"

"Right now, estimates place over half the colony as unaccounted for," he said. "No way of knowing this early if all are due to the Collectors."

He couldn't count the number of people he'd seen today who asked him if he knew anything about their loved ones. In a fit of probably misplaced trust, he gave a woman named Robin the email Garrus gave him. He didn't have much hope for a response, but it was something. And maybe if the woman he thought he knew was still in there somewhere, Robin would get closure.

"And the neurotoxin you mentioned in your report, do you know anything more about that?" Hackett asked.

"We don't know much yet. It's some kind of paralytic, administered by what looks like a semi-organic drone," he said. "I've got a dead specimen and blood samples from a few of the affected on ice and I talked Dr. Hassan into letting me store a Collector body in the morgue, but has to be out of there by end of day tomorrow."

"Good work. I'll be dispatching a science team to retrieve the materials as soon as possible," he replied. "Now for the more complicated business. Are you sure the woman working for Cerberus is actually Shepard?"

"It's either her or they managed to find an even better actress." Everything about her, from the too efficient way she moved, to the calculating way she justified working with Cerberus, to the way she settled against him, was all Shepard.

"And you're certain they're not allied with the Collectors," Hackett said.

"Only reason I can think of is to use the Collectors to drive a wedge between the Alliance and the Terminus colonies, but there's easier ways to do that," he said. "Shepard would never agree to a plan that's that inefficient." The brutal math he'd seen her do allowed for losses, but not on this scale. Not when there was a more economical solution. "We need to gather more information about what Cerberus is planning, but given the circumstances, the Collectors are a bigger problem."

"That being said, the threat posed by Shepard working with Cerberus is too great to ignore," Hackett said. "I'm working to set up our own squads to combat the Collectors." He knew what was coming next, but he hoped he was wrong. "Your assignment will continue in regards to Shepard's capture."

"I understand sir," he said. As much as he wanted to say no and end whatever relationship they had on Horizon, he had a duty to the Alliance. He closed out the vid call and slowly slid down the wall. The end of his break couldn't come soon enough.

**_X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X_ **

"There's too many of them," Rahel said, setting her scanner down on the table.

"We need a real count," Tali asked, looking up from Rannoch. The drone had taken heavy damage in their mad dash to shelter. She could get it flying again, but without more time to recalibrate the targeting matrix, it was useful as little more than a sacrifice.

Tali brought eight drones with her. She was down to three. Rannoch was dead in the air. Chiktikka wasn't half as quick after one of the motor blades bent. Shepard, she still hadn't found a new call sign for that one, was built for recon rather than combat.

They started out this expedition with a dozen marines and an entire science team. Each and every one of them was an expert in their field. Each one of them sworn to protect her. She could count on both hands their remaining numbers. She could only hope that it was enough to make it to the observatory.

As the Geth closed in around them, she had to break down her squad into pure numbers. Who would get them the time they needed to escape. Who they wouldn't need for the final push to the observatory. Who was too injured to continue. Who was too valuable to lose in a pyrrhic stand. With each teammate she left behind, it got harder to let them go, but they needed the data. They'd come this far, only a little ways more and their sacrifice would be worth it. It had to be.

This expedition started out so wonderful. She'd cried in wonder the first time she saw the houses. Quarian houses. She remembered the first night. They stayed in one of the houses near the drop site. Shia, one of the researchers, brought one of her quilts with her. A blue and red and orange thing her brother made her. She proudly laid it out on the floor and they all sat and shared a meal.

At first, afraid to break the spell woven by four walls, a roof, and solid ground underfoot, nobody spoke. Then Thea, just off his pilgrimage and never having been on a planet before asked her if this was what it was like the first time she walked on stone. It all went from there. There were stories and jokes and Kal sang off key. One of her soldiers brought out a pack of cards and she shared a game Adams taught her. For one night, all their troubles were forgotten.

Everything had gone so wrong. Haestrom was supposed to be abandoned. Her squad was more scouts and scientists than soldiers. They were supposed to be doing research. When the Geth ships arrived, they were nearly defenseless. She should have been thrilled to be inside a real Quarian house. One they built on solid ground and lived in with uncovered heads. It should have felt safe, maybe a little like a home, but instead it was little more than fleeting shelter.

They should have found a bunker. Instead, they were chased by death into a house. Doors and walls designed to keep out the elements instead of invading Geth. Any safety and comfort they had from walking the same halls as their ancestors was replaced with oppressive dread each time the Geth fired on the doors.

"I can't get an accurate count," Rahel replied. "I can barely get visuals on the hunters and they're scrambling my scanners."

"Estimate," Kal said, leaning back against a wall. "We need to know what we're up against."

The scout gripped the edge of the table with uncharacteristic anger. "I don't know. It doesn't matter. We'll never make it to the observatory and we can't go back because there's drop ships all over the place. We need to try to get a signal to the Neema for extraction."

"They're blocking communications. Even if they weren't, the Geth will be through the door by the time we get an extraction team," she said, shutting the repair panels on Rannoch for the last time. "If we open the other doors, we can get an aerial view, but we're only going to get one shot."

"I can work with that," she replied. Rahel was shaking. Blood had long since soaked through the leg of her deep green suit. They could only afford to give her minimal medigel, enough to staunch bleeding and numb the pain, but not enough to make her well.

She plugged in the launch codes and Rannoch sputtered to life and Shepard happily buzzed in the corner. That drone always sounded like a smug little bosh'tet.

"Do you have visuals?" Tali asked.

"Affirmative," she said.

She positioned the drones at the back door and nodded at Kal. The door groaned open and she let the pilot VI take over. Rannoch lumbered out the door and Shepard zipped by just as the metal slabs slammed shut behind it. Rannoch's VI went off line not a minute later.

"Sniper," Rahel said by way of explanation. "At least two."

Another blast rattled the front door and Tali double checked her shotgun, then glanced at the mine she placed just inside the door.

"Primes," Rahel said. "Three juggernauts. Visual interference caused by hunters." She marked down the locations on their maps as she watched the video stream. "Geth drones in pursuit." She continued marking Geth units and drawing in features of their maps.

For just a few minutes, she watched the confidence and life she used to see in the scout come back. Then Shepard's VI went off line and her scanner fell from her hands.

" _Keelah se'lai._ " Her voice shook and Rahel fell to a chair as if through space. "They have a Colossus."


	16. One Eye Watching You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Commander Mira Shepard solves a hardware problem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to get up. My laptop died on me for a while and TBCH after that, getting my motivation to write this back was like herding cats. Anyway, thanks to my fantastic readers and everybody who has reviewed, kudos'ed, and everything else! If you have anything you want to say about this, please don't hesitate to comment! :^)

Her suit's incessant beeping made her wish she ripped the audio circuits out of her helmet with the bug, but then that would be a waste of Jacob's prototype sound dampening. She knew her shields were down. She'd known the sun would fry them when she got onto the shuttle. That damn AI kept reminding her of it as if she was too stupid to read the supplemental materials or notice the considerable Geth activity in the area. She needed to stay on her boss' good side, but not enough to put up with that AI. As soon as she finished picking the locks on the AI core, she was going to gut that  _thing_  out of the ship.

Without the noise, this was manageable. Stick to the shadows. Stay on the move. Don't get shot. Right up her alley.

She presented a very good case for leaving Tali to her own devices. She'd already asked, Tali said no. No point in wasting time and risking her life to recruit somebody who'd already indicated she was disinterested. If she wanted someone else to tell her how she'd betrayed everything she stood for, she'd reply to one of those emails the surviving Horizon colonists kept sending her. Illium was the natural choice. Swing through, recruit two people on one stop, buy those suits she'd been denied on the Citadel, pick up mercenary work and do recon until they found a way through the Omega 4 relay. It made more sense than sidetracking to a backwater hellhole like Haestrom.

Garrus argued that if the Illusive Man thought there was a chance to recruit her, she was unlikely to say no. An undercover operation in Geth space meant danger and if the Illusive Man knew about it, something had gone wrong. They'd lost too many friends for him be alright with sitting by. After a lengthy discussion, she began to realize that her reasons for favoring Illium were less pragmatic and more personal. Perhaps she hadn't left Horizon as far behind as she thought because one Quarian's opinion shouldn't hold enough sway over her to influence her decisions.

In the end, she relented. The Illusive Man wanted her to recruit Tali. She'd always done her job, regardless of her personal feelings on the matter. Losing one person, who should never have mattered to her anyway, wouldn't change that. If they were under attack, this was a time sensitive matter and Haestrom was closer to their position than Illium anyway.

Shockwave detonations ripped by her, leaving dust and rubble in its wake, and knocked the Prime back. She ducked out from behind the pillar, it stumbled adrenaline slow and before it got its footing, she'd already taken aim and put a bullet through its processor.

Geth were almost relaxing. After the Collectors, it was nice to fight something she understood. She had ten thousand solutions for the Geth. Overload their CPUs. Blow their guns up in their little flashlight faces. Have the in this case not so friendly neighborhood biotic turn them into helpless floating targets. Turn them on each other via hacking. She liked that last one a lot. Nothing like watching a Geth unit wiped out by its own artillery.

"I had that Shepard!" Jack growled. It wasn't worth a response.

The further they went into the ruins, the more she thought she was better leaving Jack on the ship. The ruins were nearly as bad as Therum and Jack didn't do well with following orders. She and Garrus were trying to utilize close quarters to their advantage, turning narrow halls into a shooting gallery. She'd asked for a barrier, Jack wasn't patient enough to keep the bubble up. Something shot at her, she shot back.

Dust settled around the path of the shockwave. Flakes of rust drifted from exposed metal supports. The low sounds of Geth beeping drew closer. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the flare of Jack's corona. It was a calculated risk taking Jack into the field, but she needed to see what she could do. When they got out of this, she'd make sure to double check her math.

"Hold positions," she said. She'd left Zaeed behind to handle Grunt while she was gone. Right now, she missed him. He was a grouchy old asshole, but she understood him. "We move on my order." She liked the outward appearance of chaos, when she could contain it or get out of its wake. She liked it as something to sic on other people. Jack was the real thing and far too close for comfort.

She backed away from the pillar and took cover behind a crumbling wall. There was a dead Quarian next to her. Their faceplate was cracked. The remains of their arm lay a few feet away, its fingers still curled as if holding the radio she now had clipped to her belt. As grim as it was, finding the bodies of Tali's squad was better than the alternative. Husks rushed a position, forced close quarters. She preferred her enemies far away or if she had to get close, unaware of her real position until it was far too late to stop her.

The noise came closer, echoing off of the walls. Her toes curled and her breathing slowed, all the energy in her coiling and crystalizing just below her ribs. Ready to run.

The Geth advanced and a bolt of red light erupted from behind her. The overload field ripped through the new vanguard's shields and they fell to the methodical crack of sniper fire. The smell of burning plastic and conduit fluid filled the air. She took aim at another Geth when she caught the flare in her periphery.

"Hello dead people!" She dropped her rifle just in time to see Jack drive her shoulder into another Geth. She wheeled and punched another in the head, sending scrap and sparks flying. Dark energy rolled off her in waves as she ripped and tore. All power, no control.

"Can't get a clear shot," Garrus said, slinking over to her position. "Too much movement."

The thing that kept her alive on Akuze whispered to run. She thought she'd learned her lesson about fucking with biotics by surprising Liara and taking a stapler to the face for her trouble. Even watching Wrex charge through swaths of enemy troops didn't unnerve her like this. That was controlled and Wrex had an understanding of tactics. A nigh indestructible Krogan charging was terrifying. This was fighting for the sheer love of the fight.

"Settle for less than clear," she said. Garrus was careful, nearly as good as she was. Jack chose to be an idiot and she did not suffer idiots lightly.

She ducked behind the wall just as a pulse of fire flew by her ear. "Just like old times. Remember that Geth rifle I had you and Ash test?"

There was something in his subvocals that didn't translate, but two years had not taken the edge off his opinions about that pulse rifle.

Jack slammed another Geth against the wall, sending dust and debris flying, and kept slamming until it was little more than broken parts in her hands. The situation was slipping away from her and her fingers itched at a sabotage pulse. Blow out everything in its radius. Take out the Geth and leave Jack clutching at her implant. Teach her that when she gave an order, it was for a reason. But she checked herself, then checked her locust. Still cool to the touch. So far, she'd declined Jacob's offers to update the heat sink. One relic clinging to another.

Her own rage was irrelevant and Jack needed more immediate backup. Lightly armored, light on her feet. She wasn't supposed to get in close, not like this. Garrus was better in close quarters, but she was smaller. He'd have more space to work if she went up than if their positions were reversed. Not ideal, but it would work.

"Shoot me again and I'll find something worse than the pulse rifle," she said, breaking from cover.

"Had to make it look good," he insisted. Another shock trooper fell.

She joined Jack just in time to catch one of the big ones swinging at her. She shot at the elbow joint and it turned its attention on her. Shepard sidestepped and Jack cut in, driving her bare hands into its core and ripping vital circuits back out. They danced around each other, something from a club meeting a choreographed ballroom standard.

The last of them went down to their coordinated efforts moments later. Jack wiped a mix of blood and conduit fluid onto her shirt, energy still flashing and flaring around her.

"What were you thinking?" she asked, flat, cold, and uncaring as Mavignon's glacial plains.

"Got tired of waiting for your bossy ass to get in there," she replied, adrenaline fueled fire burning in her eyes. She was still angry, but not confused. No opportunity to be had here. "Got the job done when you wouldn't."

"I know you're not accustomed to my kind of operation," she said. To diffuse a bomb, you had to keep calm, but this didn't give her the same chilled vodka rush as a nuke under her fingers. "However, when I give an order, it's for a reason."

"Not one of your minions Shepard." She thought she might have hit some sort of understanding with Jack. Instead, she was reminded of the flashbangs in her utility belt.

"That's irrelevant," she said. "You put yourself in downwind of your colleagues and right in the middle of a pack of Geth. If your own imminent death was not your goal, then when we return to the ship, I expect you to explain what you thought to gain from that situation."

"I don't owe you any…"

"Get down!" She hit the ground, felt the air ripple above her back before she heard the sound of more gunfire. She turned to see what Garrus fired on and saw the shimmering outline of a Geth fall back, before it started blinking in and out of sight.

"Used to giving you cover," Garrus said, pointing his rifle at the ground as she crept closer. "Your cloak's got the same flicker."

She knelt by the Geth, carefully felt along its hardware for the stealth field generator. Jack could wait. "Fascinating."

**_X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X_ **

"Keep your hands up," Jacob said, throwing another punch at the Krogan.

Shepard said he learned from the tank, whatever that meant. He'd looked at the files when Shepard asked him to assess Grunt, but there wasn't much in them about the tank's neural interface. He should have studied more, but the Horizon attack had him distracted. It didn't matter how much the tank showed Grunt. Theoretical knowledge and pure strength were only going to get him killed against much more experienced and skilled soldiers and he told her as much yesterday.

Grunt fell back and dug his heels into the mat. He snarled as Jacob landed another blow. He got it. He really did. The feeling that you should know how to do something, like it all should come naturally, then it just didn't. It didn't mean he was going to go easy on him.

He'd give it another minute or so, then call it. The Krogan was getting frustrated and it was better to quit while they were ahead. Grunt could take a biotic charge without flinching, no small feat, even with a small lead distance and was strong enough that once he got the hang of things, anything in melee range was as good as dead. The practical skill and muscle memory just weren't there yet.

Grunt took another swipe at him. Sloppy and easy to read, but fast enough that the back of his hand brushed Jacob's shirt as he dodged. He pivoted and jumped back, his barrier flaring again. He let the Krogan's momentum carry him forwards, then kicked out at his leg. Just enough force to let his own size take him to the ground.

But Grunt caught himself before he hit the mat, spun and lunged again. He was better than yesterday. Faster. More sure of his movements. Jacob had to be careful. He was too strong and enjoyed the fight too much. All it would take was one second where Grunt underestimated himself or forgot where he was.

He seemingly braced himself for the charge, his barrier gathering around him. He flowed around the Krogan like water, but this time he wasn't fast enough. Grunt tracked his movement, giving him barely enough time to disperse enough energy to knock both of them back.

"Good," he said, wiping sweat from his brow to mask his hands shaking. There was something in Grunt's eyes that told him that it ended here or with one of them in a body bag. "We're done for now. Get water, take a break. Work on the footwork drills I gave you."

**_X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X_ **

"Just like old times Shepard," Garrus said, moving in sync with the Colossus to stay in the blind spot.

"Yes because I have such fond memories of the last time we had to fight one on foot," she said. Virmire, just before they reached the Salarian camp. The Mako's shields were down and there was an impossibly cocky gleam in her eyes.

"We all got out of that one alright," he replied.

"There were six of us and I had a pair of biotics to swap out lift fields," she said, dropping back. "That thing couldn't get its feet under it for long enough to get its canon online."

The Colossus' head jerked to the side, caught by another round of explosives. At least the Quarrian was still alive. For his own team, he'd been too late for anything but vengeance. He'd do whatever he could to make sure the rest of Tali's got out of here alive. They'd nearly been too late this time. He wouldn't wish that kind of guilt on anybody.

It stumbled and its shields flickered, but kept steady long enough to fire on him. He jumped back, heat from the plasma bolt rippled through the air. Flashes of blue came from the courtyard. There were few things in the galaxy as beautiful as the sight of Geth lifting off into the stratosphere.

While the Colossus staggered through a turn towards the courtyard, he aimed another concussive shot at it. Its legs folded and whine came from its chassis.

"It's starting the repair sequence." Reegar's voice crackled over the coms.

"So we shut it down," Shepard said. They could do this. Just had to keep the Colossus off balance and confused about its real target.

He lobbed a frag grenade at its knee. A spray of hydraulic fluid arched from the joint. Its neck spasmed as Shepard overloaded the renewing shields. Yet it got back up and the sharp sound of machine gun fire cut through the air, barely missing him. And he was almost grateful.

With adrenaline pumping through his veins, everything felt real. The weight of his rifle in his hands, the sounds of short circuiting Geth, the smoke and haze of the battlefield. The sharp edges and blood were easier to get his claws around than the sleek lines and soft hum of the ship.

The Colossus reared its head back, scraping the roof and readied its canon. He scrambled back, trying to get clear of the blast radius. Then the front legs glowed and they were pulled out from under it, twisting and contorting like puppet spider. The noise from the snapping joints reminded him of a gang enforcer he took down on Omega. Its shot went wide, concrete debris fell around them. He and Shepard fired on the silhouette and when the dust cleared, it didn't get back up.

"Good work Jack," Shepard said. The other woman rolled her eyes.

"Save it for someone who cares," Jack said, somehow sounding less hostile than usual as she sat down on a crate of research materials.

Shepard unclipped the radio from her belt and said, "Geth artillery's down Tali."

"Let me unlock the door." Her voice crackled through the radio and the door slowly ground open. Tali didn't look up from her terminal as they entered an observatory full of dead Geth.

"Just a minute, I have to finish downloading this data," Tali said, holding up a finger.

Not one to waste time, Shepard got right to work salvaging a downed Geth's datacore. Instead, he leaned against the doorframe and caught his breath, relieved he wouldn't have to add her name to his list.

**_X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X_ **

Jacob pressed his knuckles into his back waiting for the armory doors to open. Training with the Krogan was a good work out, but damn if he wasn't going to have to be careful in the future. A hot shower did nothing to help with dull ache from the few times Grunt got lucky. The sweet relief of his joints cracking was almost enough that he didn't see Miranda leaning up against his workbench.

"Hey," he said, nodding at her. "Need something?" Since Shepard's take over, Miranda handled all her equipment maintenance in her own quarters and only came into the armory in her wholehearted, but half-assed attempts to wire monitors into Shepard's equipment. In truth, he missed working with her like he did on the Lazarus project.

The armory was too empty to be comfortable. Sure, Shepard came in with her requests and reports (still insisted on forms and hard files, as if insisting that everything be filed away nice and neat in color coded folders could make this normal). Yet her brusque business demeanor was always better than when she wanted to linger. Her seemingly endless capacity for friendly, pleasant chatter, always left him certain that he said something he shouldn't have. Garrus visited to borrow tools or recalibrate his rifle. He always hummed while he worked, sometimes music, sometimes something in his subvocals that didn't translate in words, but Jacob understood anyway. Barely contained rage was a universal language on this ship.

Miranda was different. They'd been working together for so long they could almost have an entire conversation about pistol mods or biotics without words. Working together hadn't always been easy. Either she was privy to more information about Cerberus' more dubious projects than he was or she just bought into their doctrine more than he did. Yet even when they didn't always see eye to eye, he always had to admire her dedication, intelligence, and integrity.

"I wanted to talk," she said, a drive over and over in her hands. "It's about the mission."

"Shoot," he said, sitting on the bench next to her.

"Trying to get a sense of where the crew's at," she said, turning something over in her hands.

"We're leaving the fate of the galaxy in the hands of a bunch of unstable assholes if you ask me," he said. "But if that's what it takes to get the job done, I'll follow along."

"And their take on Shepard?"

"Got them convinced she's not an asshole. Most of them are pissed about the paperwork," he said. A lot of them joined Cerberus to get away from the paperwork. "But she's buying them better food so they let it slide."

"They have to know it's all at least a little expired," Miranda said.

Shepard didn't buy anything with Cerberus funds without passing the budget by her. Improving meal quality while saving on costs led to food of questionable provenance, much to Miranda's horror, but not surprise. While studying Shepard's behavior and living habits, Miranda once came to his office with a horrified look on her face, poured both of them drinks, then after a wordless shot of whiskey, then two more, asked if he thought that manager's special meat and dairy products were an acceptable purchase for a woman making Shepard's salary, plus whatever she was making on the side.

"Gardener knows, but he's not saying anything," he said.

"But really Jacob, what do they think of her?" she said, rolling her back and shoulders. She wanted to know something else. "We're on constant danger, but we're humanity's only hope for survival. If something happened to her in the field, would the crew be able to carry out the mission?"

There it was. The thing they didn't talk about. The Illusive Man had to have a contingency plan in case Shepard proved uncooperative. She was dangerous. It didn't matter how much they respected and admired her, it had to be the respect and admiration you gave a tiger. Miranda didn't share it with him, but there was something that kept the control chip in its jar on her desk.

There were a lot of things they didn't talk about on the Lazarus project too. Organic reconstruction was proceeding well, but the boss wanted cybernetic implants. Miranda almost without realizing it reconstructing Shepard's face to be prettier than it had been. The way she sounded like the way she described her father when she talked with the Illusive Man about the possibility of introducing biotic abilities to Shepard's reconstruction.

This was the big one though. What to do if (he thought it was a matter of when) Shepard got out of hand.

"We have snipers, a thief, there's nothing in her skill set that can't be done by someone else on the crew," Miranda said. She left unsaid, " _Nothing that she can do that I can't do._ " "Do you think they can finish this without her?"

A part of him wanted to ask what exactly Shepard had done to bring this on. Throwing away the time and work Miranda put into Shepard would have been unthinkable a month ago. Even when Miranda very clearly wanted to strangle the other woman, she kept up her professional demeanor.

After the inevitable clash of egos, they let themselves fall into a stubborn, spiteful rhythm. Shepard had Miranda's number and they both knew it. Miranda in turn could only do so much before she got the Illusive Man involved and doing that would be tantamount to handing in her resignation. Quietly, he thought that the Illusive Man wanted them at each other's throats.

"The crew the Illusive Man brought on is good," he said. "Zaeed and Kasumi got paid so they're as ready as anything. The rest of them though…I don't know. They're barely following Shepard. Even Garrus has other shit on his mind." Even he had other things on his mind. That distress signal wouldn't respond to itself. He didn't expect survivors, but it would at least bring closure.

They had a mission, it wasn't his place to sidetrack them from it. But he'd been asked to sacrifice everything for humanity and when that time came, his mom wouldn't get any closure. Just a last email from two years ago saying that he'd taken a job in the Terminus systems and he couldn't talk about it. First his dad disappeared into the void, now him. After all she'd done for him growing up, all she'd sacrificed and worked for, all she taught him, she deserved more than a lifetime of not knowing.

Miranda didn't say anything in response, just glared at the drive in her hands as if it had personally done something to offend her.

**_X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X_ **

It was odd to hear Shepard approach. On the Normandy, several engineers swore up and down that she could teleport. The rest, that she was testing experimental stealth technology for the Alliance. Kaidan said it was a mixture of body language and attitude, she simply didn't want to be seen, so she wasn't. Still, her footsteps on the grating were unmistakable.

Tali didn't want to turn away from the engine specs, but she still didn't quite understand what the hell Shepard was doing on this ship and she needed to know what was going on. At first, on Freedom's Progress, she had the suspicion that this was an undercover operation, but now, that didn't seem right at all. She looked too at ease among the Cerberus personnel and she allowed an AI on her ship. Except for parts of engineering where the drivecore would interfere too much, the ship was full of bugs. Shepard was too clever not to know about it.

"Shepard," she said, closing out the blueprints and turning around.

"Hello Tali, just checking in," she said. "Wanted to see how you were doing."

Her face was open and she'd been nothing but kind and welcoming onboard the ship. Just like the Shepard she remembered. Then again, the more she learned about human body language, the more she realized she wasn't the only one wearing a mask.

Tali paused for a moment, then gestured to the drivecore maintenance area. Shepard nodded, then followed her out of range of the bugs.

"We didn't have time to chat on Haestrom did we?" she said. "So many people died…" She had nineteen families to notify. She should be doing that instead of looking over blueprints and engine diagrams, but she had a job to do. Learn about the ship, the engines, the weak points in the armor. "Thanks again for getting Reegar out alive."

Every suit puncture was a matter of luck. She was still waiting for a message to see if he'd pulled through, but she was grateful Shepard at least gave him the chance to survive.

"Anything on your data?" she said, taking a spot on the rail. Flashes of blue from the drivecore mixed with the orange glow along her jaw. Shepard had always been striking -for a human anyway.

"I'm unlikely to hear anything for a while," she admitted. "Not until our scientists look over it thoroughly." She was unlikely to hear anything so long as she was onboard a Cerberus vessel. The migrant fleet wasn't stupid and if Shepard wanted their data, she was going to have to work for it.

"Settling in alright?" She flashed an easy smile that almost softened the sharp edges of her face. Something seemed familiar about it, but she couldn't quite say why. Later on Illium, she would remember that it was the smile she reserved for Liara.

"It's too quiet," Tali admitted. The Normandy had been quiet as well, but not this much. Only two engineers for a ship this size seemed unwise and the rest of the deck didn't seem very social. "I miss the old faces. Adams, Pressley. It's not the same without them."

"It's not the Normandy, it's a fresh start," she said. No. This definitely wasn't the Normandy. It was a copy, a very good copy, in most ways improved, but just similar enough that she knew where an enemy would need to punch to put a crippling hole in the hull.

"I understand that, but it just feels wrong for this ship to be in Cerberus hands." Either Shepard missed the jab or she didn't care, but she kept up the soft smile and open posture.  _See? Nothing to hide._

"That's why you're here. I need engineers who understand this class of ship and regardless of the unfortunate circumstances, I'm glad you're here for me Tali." There was a pang of something like guilt. On Freedom's Progress, Shepard insisted that she really had died and she seemed so sincere and so lost that Tali almost believed her.

"I'm sure this experience will be enlightening Shepard," she said. "Say what you will about Cerberus, they know how to build a ship."

"That they do," she said. "Although if you feel there are any improvements to be made, let me know."

"I  _was_  thinking about something with our shields…" she said, pulling up the weak spot on her omni-tool. Not useful to her, but enough to make Shepard trust her.

"Using a Nexus again? What happened to that Savant I got you?" There was something almost wistful to Shepard's tone. At the time, it was the nicest present anybody had ever given her. Then it blew while she was retrofitting a scout vessel. She'd salvaged some of the parts so that she could make the same modifications on her next omni-tool.

"Factory specs, the Savant is better," she admitted. "But Asari corporations are bosh'tets about overclocking." Voided the warrantee! She'd improved their product!

"Nexus is built by an Asari manufacturer," she said.

"And they're bosh'tets about overclocking," she said. "But I get better results from my modifications on this model and it's more receptive to modification."

Not to mention the customer service she received from the Serrice Council was enough to turn her off their products forever. She hadn't stolen it! It was a gift! Shepard gave other people gear of questionable origins. She made a point of buying Tali's.

"I suppose I can forgive you for this if you show me what kind of mods you're running," she said. Her voice was warm and friendly and Tali almost couldn't believe this woman joined Cerberus.

"I suppose that could be arranged," she said. "Which model are you using now?"

"Lawson gave me a custom job," Shepard said, raking her fingers through her hair and tucking a strand behind her ear. "Really nice, but not quite up to my standards and a pain in the ass to modify. Been thinking about swapping it out."

"So long as you don't replace it with a Logic Arrest, I think I can help with that." If she did, Tali would lose considerable respect for her.

"Tell you what, we're docking on Illium in a few days. Why don't you help me pick one out?"

"I'd like that," she said. It would be like old times. When Shepard took her to the presidium shops and she got to go in and browse rather than being turned away at the door. "Now, let me show you what I had in mind for the shields…"

Shepard took a stylus from an archaic datapad and began to take notes.

"Really Shepard? After you nagged me about out of date tech?"

"Better as a PDA. Cerberus datapads don't come preloaded with solitaire," she said. "Or my favorite organizational software. The tech on this ship is all cutting edge, but we have very limited backwards compatibility."

Shepard's usual taste told a much different story – and if that woman really wanted solitaire, she'd find a way to get it- but it didn't matter. Cerberus attacked the fleet and regardless of Shepard's true loyalties, she had a mission. She wasn't here for Shepard. She was here to pull the pin on a grenade.


	17. Lazarus, How Did Your Debts Get Paid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Commander Mira Shepard examines a pedestal and decides she wants nothing to do with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm trying to be fair to Liara. I'm sorry if it doesn't come across that way. However, as I've written this particular Shepard, I don't think she would be okay with the manner in which she wound up with Cerberus. TBCH this was one of the few chapters I planned out when I started this and it was surprisingly exhausting to write and wound up being longer than I anticipated. I tried to throw some more lighthearted bits in here, it does get less angsty for a bit after this. Thanks to my reviewers, people who favorite, follow, kudos, and everything else.

"On approach to Nos Astra," Joker said.

"Put in a call to the port authority," she said, tucking her stylus behind her ear. "Request a private dock. We have a blank ID card, so please refer to the ship by an alternate name. We leave as little a paper trail for the Alliance as possible."

"Oh come on Commander, where's your sense of adventure? I never got to outrun Alliance cruisers in the old Normandy," he said. "And you could make Kaidan look like an idiot, I mean, not that he didn't do that himself, but sti…"

"Please open a coms channel flight lieutenant," she said. On the one hand, she was grateful he no longer treated her with kid gloves and was back to reveling in his place atop her shit list. On the other, he was back to reveling in his place atop her shit list and enjoyed far more job security here than on the Normandy, so he could push his luck a little further. The return of their usual banter, however, was welcome.

"Yeah yeah, my walking papers are in their usual place on your desk," he said. "You've been saying that for years, but I'm starting to think it's an empty threat. If I didn't know better Commander, I'd think you liked me."

"I like that you're working for peanuts Moreau," she said. A lot of people pulled their punches with Joker. He respected that she didn't and she suspected he liked having a sparring partner. If she started to be nice to him, he might think she'd been replaced by a clone.

"That's what they said, but you know, I haven't seen a single peanut yet," he said, typing a series of commands into his screen. "Tell Miranda that after this long without getting paid, I'd better be getting the fancy honey roasted kind."

"Your agreed upon salary Mr. Moreau is…"

"I know how much I'm being paid EDI. It was a  _joke_!" He rubbed at his temple with his first knuckle. "Broke my thumb on the mute and it still didn't get the message...You'd think it would respect my sacrifice, but…"

"You'd think that, but it thinks I can't figure out the planet infested with Geth is infested with Geth," she said.

"So much for artificial intelligence," he said. His chair began to spin painfully slowly. "Very funny EDI."

"You mentioned earlier that your chair's performance would be ameliorated with automated turning functions." The red icon on the coms screen turned green.

"Yeah. When I  _want_ it to spin," he replied. "Not when…"

"Moreau, please remain focused on your job," she said, gesturing to the screen. "They've accepted our call."

"Nos Astra control, this is…" She was almost disappointed she never got to find out what Moreau would have named their ship.

"Hello Normandy," said the controller. She narrowed her eyes, trying to figure out how the hell they knew the ship. The Illusive Man had likely arranged for this, but to forget telling her about it was unusual. "Your docking and administrative fees are in order, sending you an approach vector."

"Thank you Nos Astra control, approach vector received," he said. "En route to docking bay Q-87."

"Moreau, I trust you can handle things from here," she said. She turned on her heel and started to walk away.

"I don't know. It's a landing. I'm not sure I'm qualified for that," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Definitely can't handle it without EDI correcting my trajectories. Not like I was first in my class in flight school or anything…"

She left him to his not so passive aggressive grumbling about the AI and started to get her things together. Her clothes would make her stick out on a world like Illium. At least, that's how she was justifying the new suits on her expense reports. Then a trip to customs and immigration to start her hunt for the Justicar.

A quick check with Garrus and Tali revealed no questions about the dossiers. If everything went according to plan, they should have the Justicar on their team by lunchtime. If she had to improvise, they'd have her by nightfall. They'd spend the next day tracking Krios.

As soon as they set foot onto Illium, they were accosted by an Asari greeter.

"Excuse me," the Asari said. "Are you Comman…"

"No." Without missing a step, her voice took on a high and soft tone, with just a touch of tired irritation. "My name's Rachel Wall. I'm an actress. I played her in some ads and a couple TV vids. No, I'm not signing autographs. Now leave me alone so I can shop."

"Of course Ms. Wall," the Asari said. Her slight nod and tone indicated that she knew exactly who she really was. Shepard resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Rachel rarely failed her. She was going to have to have a word with the Illusive Man about leaving her out of the loop. "Dr. T'Soni would like to see you at your earliest convenience."

Shepard almost stopped dead in her tracks and Garrus almost ran into her back. She brushed his hand off her shoulder, then kept walking. She suppressed her confusion, transferred it to curiosity. She hadn't given the Asari any major thought since she departed the Normandy. To hear that Liara knew she was alive was almost a shock.

"Are we going to see Liara?" Tali asked. The two of them had become somewhat friendly on their mission.

If Liara was anything like Shepard thought she was, she had the money to compel loyalty, but not the social skills. It was one of the many situations in which store bought just wasn't as good. She could find what the greeter wanted and buy her secrecy. But if she was wrong and Liara was as she initially assumed, they were in a very dangerous position. She had no way to know the truth and there were too many variables to take the chance.

"No," she said. "We have a job to do. Perhaps when we've finished, I'll think about paying her a visit, but if this is some kind of trap, I don't want either of you getting caught up in it."

She always had to be careful when she was around Liara. Shepard hadn't lived as long as she had by assuming the best in people. If the Asari was one of Saren's agents, she had to draw her out, make her think that she could get away with whatever she was planning. She had access to Shepard's records, could see degrees in legal studies and software engineering from University of Earth in Boston. She couldn't hide her intelligence, but she could hide her nature. Shepard tailored her behavior towards earning Liara's trust and making her think that she wasn't a threat.

It was a small ship and differences in her behavior would be noted. Fortunately, Liara isolated herself in the lab. It made it easier to project a carefully curated image of herself. Around Liara, she was a near paragon of humanity. She just had to be conscious of her surroundings. When Liara showed her face in the mess or the armory, any trace of guile or cunning in her vanished and she became a soldier in over her head rather than a woman reveling in her element.

The Asari was subtle, or at least she tried to be. The naïve ingénue archaeologist act was almost convincing, but the frequency with which Liara asked to mind meld in order to make sense of whatever the protean beacon put into her head was highly suspect. Then she got desperate trying to find the conduit. When she let the Asari into her mind, the brief glimpse she got in return made her reconsider her position.

From then on out, it was nothing but cold, polite professionalism in an effort to deconstruct the pedestal Liara constructed for her. No more lies because you don't run game on your own team. No matter how much Liara annoyed her, she was on their team.

Still, the girl looked at her like she hung the stars and somehow, she wasn't surprised to learn that, out of everyone from the Normandy, Liara was the only one who knew she survived. She was Matriarch Benezia's daughter after all, and the Asari could play the long game better than anybody else. She never did trust anything that could outlive the consequences of their actions.

_**X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X** _

"You're going to need new power couplings," Tali said, holding out a couple of models to Garrus.

"I thought Daniels and Donnelly fixed the power draw," he said. He asked her for help with the ship's guns and the calibration errors and she was eager for a distraction after Haestrom. She hadn't expected it to be as nice working with him again. Garrus was a hot tempered, occasionally racist bosh'tet, but he was good enough with tech and after all they went through together, she was glad to see another friendly face on that ship.

"I mean they  _tried_." They did an adequate job and they were certainly enthusiastic, but she thought Cerberus hired them for their dedication to Shepard over engineering ability.

"The problem's in the canon's stabilizers, not the power," he said.

"I'll have to fix the power before I can accurately assess the problem with the stabilizers," she said, selecting the older model for him. Watching Shepard haggle with shopkeepers this morning reminded her that the Commander was cheap. She didn't want to come in over budget in her first week back.

"How do you think Shepard's doing with Liara?" Garrus asked, picking up a stabilizer coil. She wished she could have gone with Shepard to see Liara. They hadn't been close, but they were friendly and she missed the old squad.

She tried to keep in touch after she went back to the fleet, but it was difficult. Adams always responded to her emails or took her vidcalls. Kaidan was the same, and she was glad when his quiet air of sadness started to fade. When Wrex could, he kept up with her. He even once asked her for advice on Tuchanka's generator array. Garrus stopped responding after he left C-Sec, following a series of more and more frustrated emails about his transfer to white collar. Liara stopped almost immediately and it hurt more than Tali would have liked to admit. She didn't even see her at Shepard's funeral.

"I don't know," she said. "I wish we could have said hello."

"Would have been nice," he agreed. "The new crew's good, but I miss the old days." While she looked over the canon's systems, Garrus told her a bit about how he wound up working for Cerberus. He didn't share what he was doing on Omega or why talking about it left him simmering with anger.

"With the daily suicidal orders, it's like we never left," she said.

"Hey," he said. "They're not suicidal orders, Commander Shepard…" He cleared his throat and fell into what she was sure he thought was a good impersonation of Shepard's voice. "…Takes calculated risks and is very good at math."

"Stop it," she said, giving him a playful shove. "You know she sounds more like, 'Mr. Verner, why do you feel the compulsion to engage in these ludicrous activities?'"

He tried to cover up his laughter, but the twitch of his left mandible gave him away. As much as the migrant fleet was her home and family, she missed her friends.

"Hey, Tali, look at this," Garrus said, gesturing for her to follow him to another kiosks. He turned a box over in his claws. "Do you think Shepard would like it?"

_**X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X** _

"Dr. T'Soni, there's somebody from Illium Revenue Services here to see you," Nyxeris said. Liara should have turned the intercom off, but Nyxeris knew better than to disturb her when she was on a vidcall.

Liara didn't acknowledge her secretary and instead kept her intense gaze fixed on the hologram before her. Whatever Illium Revenue Services wanted with her, it didn't matter. What was left of her family's reputation protected her from the few regulations Illium had. It pained her at first to throw her name around for political advantage. It got easier.

She knew she was upsetting the matriarchs with her presence and growing power, so she'd deal with whatever pathetic creature they sent to destroy her the same way she'd dealt with all other opposition.

"Have you ever faced an Asari commando unit?" she said. She didn't hear her door slide open she was so focused on the little human and his fear. "Few humans have. I'll make this simple, either you pay me or I'll flay you alive. With my mind." She closed out the call and checked her accounts to see if the credit transfer was complete.

"Flay him with your mind?" said an amused voice from behind her. For a moment, Liara thought she was hearing things. Then she turned around to see a woman in a fine suit standing in front of the door frame. And in that moment, everything she'd done was worth it.

"Shepard," she said, fighting to keep the awe out of her voice. She never knew when her enemies were listening. "That was just a customer unhappy with the information he received. He'll pay. They all do." She was just grateful no one had yet called her on her bluff.

Mira moved with easy grace through her office, her bright, intelligent eyes taking in every inch of her surroundings. Liara almost couldn't believe it. She was here. She was really here. She wanted to reach out and touch her, but she found she couldn't move. Miranda promised the world, but she hadn't let herself hope for even a second that it would really happen.

"Dr. T'Soni," she said, giving a slight nod and fixing her suit cuffs. Liara tilted her head, confused at the cold notes in her voice. "You look well."

"As do you," she said. Her sources told her that Shepard docked early this morning. The docking official passed on her message, but Shepard waited to see her. "Please, sit down."

"Thank you, however, I'd rather stand," she said. "It's been a long time."

"What brings you to Illium Shepard?" she said.

"Business. Spent my day tracking down and hiring a Justicar," she said, laying a perfectly manicured hand on her desk. She knew the commander put on an act for her crew, she had to be strong for them. She found the idea of Mira putting on a cold mask for her churned her stomach. (Then again, she'd been cold at the end. Virmire changed her.) "Imagine my surprise when I ask my pilot to dock and find that there's a private bay reserved just for me."

The last few rays of sunlight danced over her face. She had new scars, some healed over and some seemed to glow. The one through her eye was gone, but she still had the same effortless elegance in her bearing.

"If I'd known you were en route, I would have called ahead," Liara said. "It's good to see you again."

"Always good to see a friendly face," she said, flashing a soft, disarming smile. There was the Shepard she remembered, kind and gentle despite her duty. "Yours is the first I've seen in a very long time."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Liara said, laying her hand over Shepard's. Maybe she imagined it, but she could have sworn Shepard almost recoiled.

"Enough about me though," she said, shaking her head. "What have you been up to these days?"

"After Saren, lots of people have wanted to be my friend, or at least not be my enemy," she said, turning towards the window. "I've set up a respectable position as an information broker. It's paid the bills since you…"

"As I can see," she said, slowly taking back her hand. "I thought you wanted to go back to research. What changed your mind?"

"It's been a long two years Shepard." In truth, she would have liked nothing better than to go back to the University and tell every tenured professor who doubted her theories where they could shove their, "insufficient evidence," but Feron's life was at stake. Besides, she hadn't exactly been swimming in academic credibility before the attack on the Citadel and her insistence that the Reapers were real and coming for them destroyed what little she had left. "I have things to do, debts to repay. I can't do that on Thessia."

"And you can't tell me why," Mira said. The disappointment in her voice cut like a knife. Perhaps if she was still in Nos Astra tomorrow, Liara would take an hour off to bring her dog tags to the Normandy. "Liara I…I thought you trusted me."

"I do trust you," she insisted. Then she remembered that the woman wouldn't understand this kind of work or what it entailed. "This is Illium Shepard. Everything I say might be monitored."

There was a flash in Mira's eyes, something she didn't want to recognize, and she broke away from the desk. She gave a quick glance around the room, checked something on her omnitool, then swept through the room.

"Picked up some tricks with Cerberus," she said, returning to the desk and depositing a handful of listening devices, only half of which Liara knew were in the office. Something ugly pooled in Liara's stomach. Miranda promised she'd be the same. Her Shepard had been as lost in these sort of cloak and dagger games as she was two years ago. "Can you trust me now?"

"I never stopped," she said. "Do you remember the Shadow Broker?"

"You're working for the Shadow Broker?" There was an uncharacteristic interest in Mira's voice.

"Not for him," Liara clarified. "I'm going to kill him. We crossed paths not long after you died and since then I've been working to take him down!" She didn't realize she was shouting until she brought her fist down on the desk.

"And now you're ready to execute somebody in cold blood?" Disappointment and confusion laced Mira's every word.

"I had to make them take me seriously. I wasn't going to actually do it. I know it's hard to understand, but it's more complicated than that," she said. "I was on a job with a friend. The Shadow Broker's people caught us. My friend didn't escape. I owe him my life and I need to make the Shadow Broker pay for what he did."

"I can't imagine you working in a position like this," she said. "Tell me more about it."

Familiar warmth and longing filled her, but she put it aside. This was the woman she remembered, there was no question about it. Liara almost couldn't believe how Shepard could sit with her for hours, completely enraptured by her boring life. At first, she thought Shepard's interest in her was on account of her mother, but Shepard was so earnest and guileless that her suspicions melted away. That simple act made her feel special in a way nobody else had ever bothered to. Like the entire universe revolved around her.

"Unfortunately, due to the nature of my work, I can't speak about it." There was a flash of hurt in Shepard's eyes and a microsecond downturn in her mouth. Guilt gnawed at Liara. But she couldn't afford distractions now. "Lots of things have changed in the last two years Shepard. You were gone and I did what I had to do."

"You really can't tell me anything?" Mira said. "Going up against the Shadow Broker is a big thing and…"

"I'm sorry, I understand what you're trying to do, but…"

"No you don't," she said. There was something in Mira's voice she recognized all too well, but not from her. "I ran into Tali on a human colony. I asked her for help and she rejected me. Then I saved Kaidan from a Collector attack and you know how he repaid me? He called me a traitor, said I betrayed everything I stood for, and accused me of murdering my crew."

"Their actions were foolish," Liara said. Nobody else could know. It was the only way to save the galaxy. Mira was the only one who could stop the Reapers. They would never understand what she needed to do. If she told anybody what she was doing, they would try to stop her. They could never understand what the galaxy lost over Alchera.

"No. They thought I was dead," she said. There was an undercurrent in the air and Liara was suddenly aware that little more than a foot separated them. "Funny thing you didn't." Her voice was the rumble of distant thunder.

This wasn't like her. Miranda promised that they'd bring Mira back just the way she was! She wasn't suspicious. Where Ashley and the rest of the crew watched her with distrust on account of her mother, Mira welcomed her with open arms and never a second glance.

"I have my sources Shepard. My operation is…"

"You don't pay for a private dock -for what was it? Months? Years? - because your sources give you information that would be at most weeks old and may not be true," she said. Her tone was conversational, reassuring Liara her interest was little more than curiosity. "You've known about me for a long time Dr. T'Soni. The question is why."

"I can't tell you that," Liara said.

"Can't or won't?" she said. She stepped away from the desk, straightened her back. For a second the Commander mask was back and Liara realized how tall the woman was. "There's a world of difference between the two."

"I…" Her mouth was dry and the room grew colder.

"You can't or you won't?" Her voice was still soft and curious. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be so harsh, it's just that I can't believe that after everything with Kaidan and Tali…" Her words caught on her lips, "that you would also…"

"That's not fair," she said. "I trust you Shepard, I just can't…"

"I don't have any friends left Liara," she said. "I don't want there to be any secrets between us. So I have to know, are you working for the Illusive Man?"

"I…no. Not anymore," she said.

"What do you mean not anymore?" Shepard blinked slowly and the war in Liara's head raged on. Feron's safety, or revenge for his death, was all she thought she had, but now Mira was back and she couldn't bear the thought of losing her again. For so long, she'd lived in a world of deceit and seeing Mira, knowing she was really alive, was the first good thing that happened to her in two years.

"I…" She'd spend so long trying to bring light into the shadows, weaving a web of lies to catch the Shadow Broker. She didn't want to lie anymore. "That job I was on. The Shadow Broker's operatives were working for the Collectors. While I'm sure their widescale abductions are horrifying for their victims, they have a far more insidious interest in individuals."

"I can't imagine...When I saw them, the Collectors were horrifying. I'm so sorry you had to go through that," she said.

"I'm not fragile Shepard," she said. Except for Noveria, Mira left her onboard the Normandy, with the explanation, "you're a civilian. I can't let you put yourself in danger." And as much as the woman's protectiveness frustrated her, it was also endearing. Shepard saved her life on Therum, it was only natural.

"I know," she said. "And you've accomplished so much here. That doesn't mean that what you went through wasn't horrible."

This would be alright. Mira would accept what she'd done as for the good of the galaxy. As much as it tore her apart, the Commander killed her mother for the same reason.

"I was contacted by the Illusive Man to retrieve information regarding an individual they'd shown a particular interest in," she said. This shouldn't be so difficult to say. Shepard would understand. She was empathetic, she was kind. "You."

"But I was…"

"Dead." A pang went through her when she remembered getting the news. She was still on the Citadel, trying to find a journal who would publish her new discoveries based on the Prothean cypher. "I know. But nonetheless, they wanted your body. It was unacceptable that you fall into their hands."

"So you told them where to find me?" Mira's eyes were bright and shining. Hopeful.

"No," she said, looking to the desk, unable to meet her gaze anymore. "I delivered you to Cerberus myself."

The silence that followed was deafening and it felt like hours until Liara could bear to look at her. Yet when she looked up, Mira was gone, having silently moved to the window. The last rays of sunlight caught her face, casting deep shadows under sharp cheekbones and lighting her scars like flame against her dark skin. There was something cold in her eyes and she almost looked like different person.

"What did the Illusive Man give you for me?" she said. She'd never heard that tone from Shepard before. Not around her. The woman she respected and admired was never that cold and uncaring.

"Shepard…I…Don't you understand?" she said, gripping at her desk. "It was the only way to keep your body from the collectors!"

Mira's shoulders sagged and she sounded impossibly tired when she asked, "There were really no other options?"

"There was no other way," she said.

Mira took something silver from her pocket and flicked it open.

"Do you mind if I smoke?" Out of shock, Liara nodded and she placed a cigarette between her lips and lit it. She took a long, slow drag and let the smoke curl from her lips. "Just out of curiosity, as you are a former archaeologist, would I be correct in assuming you are familiar with various funerary customs?"

"What does this have to do with…"

"I always favored cremation myself," she said. "Even specified it in my will. I assume you are familiar with…" She sounded like one of Liara's old professors, just about to tell her that her life's work was crazy and enjoy every moment they spent ripping it apart. She told Mira everything about her life and the woman knew what would hurt the most.

"I'm familiar." Her voice was dangerously like her mother's.

"Then you should have realized you had other options," she said, cold indifference radiating throughout the office.

"I couldn't…"

"You couldn't what?" The Commander turned on her, lean muscles tightly coiled under the fine suit. She sounded calm, almost amused. "You couldn't get an accelerant and a lighter? All this power and you  _couldn't?_ "

Liara remembered touching the pod holding Mira's body for the first time. Such a fragile thing, brittle as a mummy. Her desiccated flesh cut through by a mangled hard suit. Liara measured bones and catalogued skulls, mostly Asari, a few Turian from her brief time on Palaven. She thought she could be objective when it came to the dead. She'd never seen human bone until Mira's arm nearly fell off in the bodybag. Shards of ivory poking through the dark fabric of her underarmor. She would have given the world to change that.

"I was seventeen and stupid and I knew what you could do with a body, some fuel, and a lighter," Shepard said. She flicked the lighter back on, studied the flame. "So, centuries old genius like you, I have to ask. What stopped you? What Prothean trinket did the Illusive Man offer you?

"It wasn't like that!" she shouted, her biotics straining at her fingertips. Liara spent enough time on dig sites surrounded by predatory beasts to know when she was being watched by one.

"Then enlighten me." The lighter clicked shut. Shepard wore a look Liara had been too shocked to properly register and tried to forget, but never quite could. The fight in the labs was chaos, but as much as she tried to forget, she remembered the flare of her mother's biotics and the light from a flashbang. Then Shepard standing over Benezia's body, with a bloody knife and a look on her face as if what she'd done was just business.

"I saved…"

"No," she said, gentle and condescending. "Miranda Lawson saved me and I'm grateful for it. To her of course, not to you. If you didn't do it, they would have found somebody else. I know exactly what Cerberus is and I blame them for this as much as I'd blame a scorpion for stinging. You know what Cerberus is and  _you_  sold me like a common slaver."

"That's not true."

"Of course. I apologize. I was hasty and incorrectly assessed the situation." Shepard paced towards her in long measured strides, cold rage burning in her eyes. Liara's heart rattled against her bones, fear coursing through her veins like blood. "Remind me, what is it you Asari call it? Indentured…"

"Stop!" Her barriers flared. What happened to the Shepard she knew? She gave Liara the confidence to stand up to her mother, to succeed on Illium. She was so open and honest that Liara almost didn't believe she was a Spectre at first. Liara wasn't well versed in human body language or behavior, but even she could tell Shepard was a terrible liar. Miranda promised they would bring her back. Instead, they brought back a husk.

"Or what? You'll flay me with your mind?" There was a quick, bitter noise Liara couldn't believe was a laugh.

"You're no slave Shepard! Nobody's making you work for Cerberus." Didn't she understand how difficult this decision was? Liara tortured herself for months after she handed her body over. She knew what Cerberus was. They were the only people willing to admit the Reapers even existed, never mind do anything about them, and Shepard was the only person who could stop them.

"Do you believe they'll just let me go?" Goddess, she missed the brave, heroic woman she used to know. "To Cerberus, I represent the investment of years of cutting edge research and billions of credits. Their prized lab rat. I wasn't the start of the Lazarus project Dr. T'soni. I'm certainly not the end."

"I did what I had to do, but you chose…"

"Then let's work with the assumption that they would let me leave. If I choose to leave, do you know what's waiting for me? Charges of treason, desertion, and murder. If I go home Dr. T'Soni, the Alliance will arrest me, put me through a show trial, then stand me up in front of a firing squad." It sounded like she was commenting on the weather. "Do you know how it feels to see someone you used to care about, your closest friend, and know that they will lead you to that without…"

"Kaidan's shortsighted reaction is not my fault! Don't pretend that it was."

"So you wouldn't feel betrayed if you thought I was dead, mourned me, moved on with your life, only to find out years later I'm alive and well and working for the enemy? How about if I sold you a knight in shining armor? Made you believe I was an honorable woman, who cared about the banalities of Asari academia when…"

It couldn't have been a lie. It couldn't have all been a lie. She couldn't have missed so much. She was good at seeing patterns. She could model an entire sixth millennia amphorae from a single potsherd. She could find a mole in her operation by looking at a fragment of a bank statement. She should have been able to look back on Shepard, see the parts that didn't fit.

"I looked up to you! I trusted you!"

"And you gave me away as a lab rat."

"I couldn't let you go!" And the rage in Shepard's eyes shifted from ice to a burning flame and Liara felt small in a way she hadn't in decades.

"Fuck you!" She'd never heard Shepard yell before. She could project her voice across the Normandy, but never seemed to raise it. (No. She did. When they merged their minds. She'd never faced that kind of resistance and she had to fight for every bit of information gleaned. She had to drown out Shepard's mind screaming, "Get out!")

With her face contorting in betrayal and rage, she looked so young and there was something crass in Shepard's voice. She once jokingly called herself a slum rat, but she always sounded so cultured and eloquent Liara could hardly believe it.

"What would you have me do Shepard? Tell the world so that they could stop me? Expose myself and my work to the galaxy? I had no choice!" She'd given up so much for Shepard. It couldn't have gone so terribly wrong.

"You had no right!" she snarled, pointing her burning cigarette at her, ash drifting to the floor. "I'm not yours to sell! You selfish…" Liara was no longer sure if the pain or rage she heard was real and she didn't care. This woman wasn't Mira Shepard.

"I didn't sell you." She had to stay calm. Liara was better than this. She didn't get where she was today by throwing a temper tantrum like Shepard. The woman clenched her fist. "Calm down. You're making a fool of yourself."

"How'd you think I was gonna to react? You stupid enough to think I'd be okay with it? You think I was gonna throw myself at you like you saved me from getting myself stuck in a trap?" She would ignore that. She'd weathered enough mockery at the hands of her peers that one woman looking for whatever ammunition she could get wouldn't bother her.

"You can accept that I did what I had to do to keep the galaxy safe or…"

"You really believe that?" Shepard snubbed out her cigarette on the glass top of her desk. "I know what I am. I'm wicked smart, good at my job, but I'm a arrogant, selfish coward. I'm a liar and a con artist. I lie to a lotta people, but not to myself about why I do what I do. Y'didn't do this to save the galaxy!"

"You're the only one who can stop the Reapers," she shouted. And if it didn't work, then she gave someone she thought was a friend to terrorists for nothing. It had to be the right thing to do. There was no other option.

"You don't see me," she shouted. "I'm right in front of you! And you don't fuckin' see me! I'm no hero Liara. You know what tryin' to be got me? Dead! "

"What do you want me to say?" Liara said. How could she have looked up to this? "The Illusive Man gave me nothing. I did it for you!"

"What kinda idiot are you?" she shouted. "You didn't do this for me! You did it because you're a spoiled brat whose favorite toy broke!"

"Get out!" Her barriers flared out around her. Shepard stumbled back and her face twisted in rage.

She reached for something in her jacket. Liara caught the flash of a knife blade. She was halfway through a mnemonic before she realized Shepard had gone still. Liara watched as she drew her rage back into herself, collected and controlled it until it turned back into a cold, hard thing. Rather than draw the knife, she stood up and straightened her suit. Then she turned and headed towards the door with her head held high and the horrible calm on her face.

"Dr. T'Soni, thank you for taking the time to meet with me and I would like to apologize for the earlier nature of our relationship. I made assumptions which were unfair to you and my subsequent behavior was unacceptable." Her voice was smooth and cultured once more as she paused by the door. "And a word of advice? If you intend to continue this line of work, never make a threat if you're not prepared to follow through."


	18. All of the Sinners the Same

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Commander Mira Shepard does her job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey so sorry this took so long to get up. I recently started a new job and getting into that routine has been my priority lately. The next chapter should come a little quicker and it has been a delight to write.

In Shepard's opinion, locks were invented to convey the simple message that there was someone out there who thought they were smarter than she was. That person was inevitably wrong.

An emergency escape hatch in a maintenance elevator wasn't exactly the Louvre, but it still needed to be handled with the same kind of care and attention. It was an old model and the pin springs were loose, but it was always great to have an opportunity to get out her picks. In a building like this, on a world like Illium, most locking mechanisms were keycard or optically based. All worthy challenges, but there was something special about this and after the day she had yesterday, she deserved to let herself savor a small treat.

Her behavior towards Liara had been unacceptable. Her initial overt anger had been bad enough. Regardless of her emotions on the topic, Liara's new position made her an asset. As distasteful as she found it, a high-powered information broker who thought she was a god was too useful to waste.

She should have smiled, taken Liara's hand, and said, "Thank you. You're so kind and brave…" Use the fantasy she'd already created to her own advantage. Instead, she nearly lost control and lost an asset. After the years of work she spent refining her voice and vocabulary, she couldn't believe she let herself slip.

One of the advantages of being docked planetside was that she could run. The treadmills onboard the ship were perfectly serviceable, but nothing cleared her head like a good long run. She managed to pull herself together before returning to the Normandy so as not to have a repeat of what happened after the Horizon mission.

Sure, she was frustrated, angry, betrayed, but it would all pass and the next time she encountered such an emotionally charged situation, she would be able to keep herself under control, and thereby keep her advantage. No point in dwelling on the past. She couldn't change it. She could only examine her actions in order to learn from them and make better choices in the future.

Fortunately, other information brokers, who were likely far more competent, were easy to find on Illium. With only a few calls and a handoff in a stylish café, she was back on track to finding Krios.

The final pin aligned and she turned the tension wrench, then hoisted herself up onto the elevator's roof, closing the hatch behind her. If Nassana's mercs saw the elevator moving, it would tip them off as to her location. Krios made Nassana paranoid, which made her guards trigger happy and jumpy. Not the best conditions for infiltration, but she could make do. Besides, it'd been a long time since she'd had a proper challenge.

She made her way up the maintenance ladder and double checked her equipment. The improvements to her own cloak she made with the scavenged Geth stealth generator gave her an additional three minutes under cloak. Not that she'd need it. This wasn't amateur hour after all.

No. This was a race against an operative who was almost as good as she was and he had a head start. And damn if she wasn't going to enjoy every second of beating him. There was no other option. She was too good for Krios to get to the target first.

Losing Nassana Dantius would be a shame, a government official who could be bribed or blackmailed was invaluable. Then again, she didn't have her old position and a corporate executive was less useful to her than an ambassador.

When she reached the top floor, she switched her visor to thermals and waited until she had an idea of the guard's patrol schedule. Three man teams on a two minute sweep. The salarian workers from the lower floors told her that their mechs were mostly LOKI units. Susceptible to the virus from the Hahne-Kedar facility. If she had to use it. Which she hoped she didn't.

She wasn't sure about Krios' policy regarding these things, but when she did wetwork, she tried to avoid killing anybody not specified by her employers. Nothing attracted unwanted attention from guards like gunshots and dead coworkers. People start wondering why the other security teams aren't responding to their calls to check in and then they see bodies, and that's good for nobody.

Besides, it took far more skill to open an elevator door from the inside, then slip into a poor hiding place behind a crate of building materials, then look right at a guard and know that they don't, nor will they ever, see you. Anticipation built with every new hiding place and an all-encompassing calm settled over her. This was what she was made for and she loved every second of it. It'd been too long since she'd had a proper chase.

While waiting for a patrol to pass by, she tapped into the guard's radio chatter. Krios was in the vents. A safer route certainly, but she felt no desire to replicate their first meeting and this was giving her a much better rush than crawling around in vents. Besides, there wasn't a chance she wouldn't get to the target first.

Sure. Maybe she was arrogant. But years of practice and study and dedication to her craft made her one of the best in her field and she'd be damned if she hadn't earned every bit of that arrogance.

The bridge was going to give her trouble. She wasn't sure how Krios was planning on managing it if he was moving around via the vents, but then again, he had much longer to plan this and he had access to the blueprints. She didn't like winging it, but if she didn't want to waste time chasing down someone who didn't want to be found, she had to act now.

She waited for another group to pass and her heart went slow. The guards didn't see she moved to another blind spot. Tension grew in her as she crept behind crates until she could see the bridge and she watched.

No easy way across the bridge. Too heavily armed. If she were Krios, she would have begun from the other building. More heavily guarded on the lower floors, but she could manage if she had a bit more time to plan and she wouldn't have to worry about the bridge. The bridge posed a problem and she loved a good problem. If worse came to worse, she could swallow her pride and cloak. It was a crude solution, and maybe not effective as she didn't think she could make it across in time.

Although as she examined the bridge's construction, she thought she didn't have to make it across. Cybernetically enhanced grip strength was good for something after all. Krios had to be doing something similar. Start from the floor above. Climb up. Go over the bridge via the roof and support structure.

Not difficult. Simply risky. Illium had approximately 1.2 times earth's gravity. If she slipped, she would accelerate at a rate of just under twelve meters per second squared. She wasn't sure what Illium's air resistance was, but assuming similar to earth, just over fifteen seconds to hit the ground. After everything else she lived through, she wasn't going to let a fall kill her. She was too careful for that, but still, she wished she'd thought to bring climbing gear.

She crept as close to the bridge as she dared, then cloaked. It wasn't how she would have wanted to do this, but the cloak was a tool, like any other.

Wind whipped at her as she started to climb up. She was still careful to move quietly and keep as much distance as possible from the mercs. Difficult to see didn't mean impossible and it certainly didn't mean silent. She carefully counted out the time in her head. One hundred and sixteen seconds left. Even through her gloves, the metal cables were like ice, but she held tight. She knew how far she had to fall.

The thought made her move more carefully. Another eight feet to go and seventy three seconds to cover it. A mercenary passed just under her as she pulled herself up onto the top of the bridge. The sound of howling wind deadened the noise of her footsteps on the metal roof.

She wanted to feel the satisfaction of a job well done, but it wasn't done yet. Once she recruited Krios, she could enjoy her accomplishment. The wind tugged locks of her hair free of her bun as she knelt by a window. She tucked them back behind her ear, took out her tools and selected a glass cutter. Once she was through the window, she took a moment to fix her hair. After all, she wasn't an animal.

_**X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X** _

Jack kicked at the soap bucket again. She didn't deserve to spend her day mopping floors with that Krogan. This whole stupid additional duties thing was his fault anyway. It was enough that she was fighting for Cerberus. It didn't matter what that micromanaging bitch said, she didn't need to spend time doing whatever the hell that fucking mess officer came up with to humiliate her.

At first, she refused. Then Shepard came down herself and very calmly and politely asked her to get to work. She didn't hate the woman as much as the other people on this ship, at least she understood personal space, but Jack thought that she would be a lot less creepy if she'd just yell when she was angry.

"You're standing on my mop jackass," she said, attempting to yank it back. When she didn't quite manage it with her own strength, she gave him an extra push.

"Hey!" Grunt stumbled forwards and almost fell. He turned and glared at her. She stared back, daring him to try charging her again. He knew better than to fight her. Most of the ship was afraid of him, but she was one of the maybe three people he respected and she just thought he was annoying.

He lobbed a sponge at her head. She deflected it, threw it back, and laughed when it smacked him in the face.

"That's what you get," she said, dunking her mop back into the bucket. He glared, but went back to wiping down the table.

They continued to work in silence for a bit.

"When we're done," he said. "Do you want to play dominoes?" After Zaeed got fed up with teaching Grunt cards, he tried dominoes. He accidentally ripped enough of the cards that even the engineers could count them.

"No," she said. "I spend enough time with you already."

"Do you want to spar?"

"Why the hell do you want to fight me? You know what's going to happen."

"Because your biotics are stronger than Jacobs. Shepard won't take me into battle unless he says I'm ready," he snarled, holding the sponge in a death grip. "I want to learn how to beat him."

"Not my problem." Jack didn't look away from the mop bucket as she wrung it out. As much as she would like to see somebody flatten that Cerberus fucker, she wanted to do it herself.

"If you and Jacob fought, you would win," he said. "You shouldn't be afraid of him."

"Why the hell would I be afraid of him?" she said, wiping some soap on her shirt. "I've seen you try to eat things with more personality than him."

"You're always ready to fight him and Miranda," he said. "You don't want to fight me until I do something."

"None of you are worth my time," she said. If she didn't know better, she'd think he looked offended.

"Come on," he whined. "I'm getting bored doing nothing."

If she agreed, she'd be teaching him how to beat biotics. It wasn't much of a stretch from using those techniques on some Cerberus jackoff to using them on her. But it would be really satisfying to watch that jackoff get his ass kicked. And if Grunt got bored, it would mean that he'd keep bugging her.

"Fine," she said. "When we're done with this bullshit, meet me in the training room."

_**X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X** _

Thane wheezed as he crawled through the vent. Dust bothered him more now. He adjusted the mask over his mouth. Asari worlds were often uncomfortably humid. Illium was no different. Dehumidifying masks used to help. Not so much anymore.

He grew closer to his target's office. He closed his eyes, envisioned the blueprints laid out on his informant's table.

_The faint hum of neon follows his every step through the architect's home. The salt smell from the Mannovai take out downstairs permeates the apartment. The blueprints are unpleasantly smooth as he unrolls them. The edges cling slightly to his hands…_

Thane shook his head to snap himself out of the moment. He wanted to know how far it was to his target's office. He didn't need to remember the architect attempting to buy out his brother's indenture contract in the other room.

Two more grates. The third would let him out right behind his target's desk. He crawled over them and began to remove the screws. He peeked his head down. Three mercenaries and his target.

He dropped down behind the first. Cleanly snapped his neck. The second turned to him, started to draw his pistol. He never managed to get it out of the holster. An Asari commando advanced on him. He disarmed her. Her wrist shattered as he wrenched the pistol from her hands. With her guard neutralized, he turned to his target.

Nassana Dantius was backed up to her desk. Radioing for more support. After what she'd done to her employees, treating them like animals, it wouldn't come quickly enough to stop him.

Her barriers shimmered around her. His lungs burned as he began to warp them apart. He advanced slowly, his lethargy looking deliberate rather than exhausted. She cursed her security, her workers, terror growing in her by the second. He didn't revel in it as he once did.

Nassana Dantius was an evil which needed to be removed from the galaxy, but she was a person like any other.

Thane cradled her head, then broke her neck. He gently laid her on the desk and crossed her arms over her chest. He closed her eyes and if he didn't know better, he could have mistaken her for sleeping. Then he turned to the window and began to pray. He almost didn't hear the door slide open. He felt eyes on him, but they simply watch and he continues to pray.

If it is Nassana's mercenaries, he will face them. This was to be his final job and he would rather die fighting than the slow, excruciating end that will come for him. He utters one last prayer for salvation and turns to face them.

A lone figure stood in the door. Not Asari. Human. Lightly armored, but not Eclipse. Excellent posture. Radiating pure confidence. There was nowhere in the galaxy this woman belonged more than right here, waiting for him.

She strode towards him, her steps too efficient to be truly graceful, and old arrogance flared in him again. Just from the look, the way she moves, he can see how sure she is of herself and her skills. Not without good reason. She's good enough to make it here without alerting the mercenaries or himself as to her presence. Yet now, she wanted him to see her and he knew her face. He should have reached for his pistol, but curiosity got the better of him. Twice now she's managed to surprise him.

_The general slumps to the ground. His neck cleanly snapped. An unceremonious end for a decorated Batarian. Then the alarms shriek, a high whine, nearly outside his auditory range. He turns around._

_His aide still clings to life. Her blood slick fingers tremble around a radio. She holds it to her chest almost like his son holds his stuffed pyjak when he sleeps. She gurgles something. Her translator's failing, but he knows enough of death to know the sound of begging. He does not oblige. He can leave no witnesses, yet he whispers an additional prayer for her soul as the life leaves her body with his knife._

_He leaves the way he came in. The vents are cramped and dark. The faint glow of his biotics illuminate the shaft before him. From below, there's shouting, orders barked, alarms wailing. The combined noise is near deafening in the smalls space. He crawls faster. It won't be long until they get the sensors back online. He almost hopes they do. This job has been painfully simple so far._

_Then he rounds a corner and not ten feet in front of him, there's a human. He's only seen three so close before. None of them have lived to tell about it._

_Her face is sharp and angular. A long scar cuts through her forehead and cheek. He can't read her expression as she backs away, this might as well be normal for her. Her eyes are bright, tinted unnaturally blue by the light of his biotics and there's not a trace of fear in them. She moves silently and he gathers power in his fingertips._

_He hasn't been asked for her life, but there can be no witnesses._

_He blinks and she's gone._

"Hello Mr. Krios." Her voice was flat, nearly emotionless, but she still managed to sound as cocky as he once did. Her eyes were still ocean bright and looking into them was disquieting. Like looking into the past. She's one of the best and she knows it. He can only pray that she doesn't have anybody her arrogance can hurt. "I have a job for you."


	19. Fast, Thorough, and Sharp as a Tack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Commander Mira Shepard has a very nice day

Shepard opened her drawer and started to look for the green tabbed folders. Tali was an engineer, of course she needed blueprints. Yet she was working on core shielding and requested plans for the ship's armor and estimated hours at most to make her improvements.

She looked at the blue and red tabbed folders mixed in with the engineering files in the desk and rolled her eyes. Over a month and multiple promises not to touch her paperwork later, Chambers was still making her life difficult. If not for Miranda's interference, she would have left her behind a long, long time ago. Yet she understood full well why the Illusive Man wanted someone like her onboard.

The only reason one would want someone who wasn't an actual psychiatrist, and thus not bound by pesky things like professional ethics, as the ship's psychiatrist was so that they could report back without violating client confidentiality. She could use it, feed her information here and there so that their boss had the right impression of his new hire, but it didn't mean she had to like it.

Something didn't seem right about Tali's requests, but she couldn't quite put a finger on it. When she completed the day's tasks, she'd put it on her agenda. If she was good at one thing, it was getting answers.

_**X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X** _

"Come on, that bitch doesn't have to know," Jack said, kicking at a kiosk. Shepard gave the crew a day's leave so that that Quarian could finish something with the shielding. And she got to spend it stuck with that pissy old mercenary and the Krogan.

She didn't need this and still didn't know why the hell Shepard kept making him her babysitter. She wasn't even sure what she'd do in a place like Nos Astra, but it had to be better than following him around like some puppet. The Krogan kept looking around like an idiot. Like he'd never seen a fucking sky car before. She'd grown up in a lab too and she wasn't such a fucking idiot when she got out.

"I'm bored," Grunt said. "Shepard said I'd get to shoot things."

"Boredom builds character," Zaeed replied, rifling through repair kits.

The Krogan continued to argue and she started to look for a way out. She didn't know where she was going yet, but a few hours of freedom would be worth whatever passive aggressive bitchfest would be waiting for her when she got back.

As cloyingly bright and clean as this city was, it was better than another Cerberus facility and she wanted to get out of that damn prison ship, even if it was only for a little while. She didn't like following orders. She didn't like crowds. And she sure as fuck didn't like the way those Asari were looking at her.

"Don't make me laugh!" Zaeed shouted. "It's a repair kit for a discontinued rifle! Nobody's going to pay that much for it!"

"Sir, it's a collector's item," the cashier replied in a bored deadpan.

While Zaeed and the cashier argued, Jack looked at the crowd. She could disappear if not for the fact that that stupid Krogan was staring at her. She looked at the Krogan. Then to the distracted geezer. Then to the Krogan again. This was her one shot and he wasn't going to ruin it by ratting about where she'd gone.

"Come on," she said, grabbing Grunt's hand. "What'd that fucking tank teach you about vandalism?"

_**X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X** _

"So, your contact with that information broker," Garrus said, following just behind Shepard through the spaceport. "How reliable do you think they are?"

"They got the location of a nearly untraceable assassin on a last minute contract," she replied. There was a spring in her step when she came back the night before, long after Thane showed up onboard the ship. She said she went out for a run. Nothing like the glow of neon and a city full of skyscrapers to capitalize on a rush. "So long as you've got the money, Janiae seems to be as good as any other broker. You thinking of making an appointment?"

"We don't have any more leads on the Collectors," he said. "Figured I'd make productive use of the downtime."

"Just be careful," she said, weaving between two Asari maidens. "I know it's been a long time and you went rogue, but you can still practically smell cop on you."

"Don't worry Shepard," he said. "I've got it under control." Garrus almost didn't realize he was flexing his talons.

"A last minute appointment like this is going to cost extra. Let me know if you need anything," she said.

"I've got it under control." He would do whatever it took to find Sidonis and end him. He'd thought long and hard about it. Sidonis didn't deserve anything more than a single bullet and not another thought after the fact.

She turned and laid a hand on his shoulder, the soft fabric of her suit brushing up against his neck. "And if you need anything, let me know."

"Thanks Shepard, I appreciate it." He let any leads go cold when he joined the Normandy, but with too much time on his hands, he felt an itching, clawing rage.

"And if you want me to help you Garrus, I need to know if you're looking for. Revenge or justice," she said.

"It's justice." He shrugged her off. If not for Sidonis, he wouldn't have to tell so many families why he couldn't protect his squad. It was his fault. He was their leader. They all knew what they were getting into, but it was his responsibility to keep them safe.

He wanted to believe in the legal system. He went back to C-Sec with renewed faith that it could work. But for all the people who trusted him, it wouldn't. He could bring a mountain of evidence against Sidonis, and all he'd get from C-Sec or anyone else would be a line about jurisdiction. As if being in another solar system made it something less than murder.

"Good. So long as you're sure that's what you want," Shepard said, stepping away and weaving back into the crowd.

After only a few days, he'd already concluded that he didn't like Nos Astra. Omega was a murderous shithole, but at least it was honest about being a murderous shithole. At least you knew it was out to get you. Here, you sit down for a drink with the wrong person and the next thing you know, you're waking up minus a few essential organs and having signed your life away on an indentured servitude contract. All the neon lights and designer shops in the galaxy couldn't mask the rotten cores the planets shared.

"Holy crap. Shepard?"

"Urgh," Shepard whined, her voice taking on that unpleasant nasal tone again as she spun towards the voice. "For the last time, I'm not Commander Shepard! I'm Rachel Wa…" Then Shepard stopped and took off her sunglasses. "Ms. Parasini?"

Noveria was cold. That was the most lasting impression he got from the place anyway. Swirling snow drifting into the Normandy's airlock. His plates rattling as he shivered in the Mako. Shepard drawing a knife through Liara's mother's throat in a smooth, well-practiced motion. The looks that passed between the two humans was anything but.

"I thought you were supposed to be…never mind. Forget I asked. Probably classified, you're going to lie," Gianna said. Shepard looked the other woman over, her eyes lingering a bit too long to simply be a tactical appraisal. "It's been what? Two years now?"

"Something like that," Shepard said. "What happened with Anoleis?"

"Serving a very long sentence in white collar."

"Good," he said. It was only because the executive pissed off his superiors, but with just how difficult it was to get a conviction, let alone a sentence that was more than a slap on the wrist for someone like that, he'd take it.

"As I remember," Gianna said. "I owe you a beer."

"I'd love to accept," Shepard replied, straightening her suit jacket. "But I've got an appointment…"

He saw her after Horizon. She liked to keep things at a respectable distance. However, he was her friend and as such, he had a duty as a wingman. And if they separated, he would have a chance to pick up those small plyers Tali needed without Shepard asking too many questions.

"Go on," he said. She'd given everyone else a day off. She deserved one for herself too. "I can handle a meeting on my own."

_**X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X** _

"You don't have to keep following me." Jack pushed past an Asari. She would much rather spend a day on Omega or some other world like it. There was at least something to do there.

"You dragged me with you and promised me a fight!" the Krogan said.

"I showed you a whole bar of worthy opponents!" she said. "Fighting! Whatever booze you want! You  _kept_ following me!"

"Asari only look like blue Krogan! They're  _soft_ ," he explained. "You can pull out their spines with your bare hands!"

"Then why don't you go pull out a few spines and beat people with them?" she said, pausing for a moment to examine a flier about a poetry reading. If she didn't have the Krogan in tow, she might consider going. Probably not. She didn't think anything worth listening to could come out of a place like Nos Astra. Probably had really rigid stanza structure. "Look, I only took you with me so you wouldn't rat me out. You can do whatever the hell you want to do!"

There was a clawed hand on her shoulder and she wheeled on him, her fist glowing blue. He hardly flinched when she connected with his chest.

"I listened to your files. You broke a moon! If I stay with you, I'll find a good fight eventually!"

"I gave you as many fights as you wanted," she said, faintly aware of people staring at them. "When I left you at the club!"

"There were too many flashing lights," he admitted. "Too many smells." The perfect Krogan warrior, put off by sensory overload. A little part of her remembered a girl hiding in the woods, only coming out at night because she'd never seen something like the sun before. "And ryncol tastes bad."

In spite of herself, she didn't hate sparring with him last night. It almost felt good when she showed him something and he got it right. Maybe it wouldn't be the end of the world if she let him tag along a little longer.

_**X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X** _

The red light from the AI core cast an unnerving light on Miranda. The Galaxy needed Cerberus. Her sister needed Cerberus. She would protect it with her life if need be. She couldn't let Shepard jeopardize everything she worked for.

"EDI," she said, keying in a series of passwords. "Cut the Normandy off from the databases completely." They only had limited access, but even that was enough for someone like Shepard. She would of course retain access on her own personal computer, but any information and outside communications they needed to complete the mission would have to go through her.

This was a stop gap at best. She would need to come up with a more permanent solution, but until she could be certain that the mission would succeed without Shepard, she could only lay groundwork on that front.

"As previously requested, I have examined both the Commander's behavior and her psychiatric reports. After evaluation, it follows that taking this course of action will result in the Commander requiring an explanation for these events." Miranda admired and respected the work that went into creating EDI. She could, however, do without being condescended to by the AI. Were it completely up to her, she would gut it out of at least her own quarters.

Miranda took out an OSD and began to load the memory block. She'd fielded enough complaints from Moreau to know that while Shepard would spend hours rephrasing questions in vain attempts to get around the blocks, they were effectively Shepard proof.

"It's been handled EDI," she said. "Your programming states that your first priority is the safety of the crew. This course of action will ensure this."

_**X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X** _

"What's taking you so long?" Jack said, checking over her shoulder. As much as she would love a fight with the police, she didn't want to deal with being bitched out over it.

"I'm still deciding what to paint," he said, still shaking the can. The alley smelled like paint and old fryer grease.

"It doesn't have to be anything," she said, pointing to her own crudely sprayed rendition of one of her tattoos. "This is supposed to be fun. You understand fun?"

"I understand fun. The screams of my enemies are fun. If I had real enemies…" He stared at a blank stretch of concrete, then began to paint.

"We got into a fight with those Eclipse assholes!" she said. How was she supposed to know the wallet she pickpocketed belonged to one of their lieutenants? "You threw one of them!"

"You did most of the work." And they didn't even have the decency to put up a good fight.

"And don't forget it!" The she noticed what he was painting. "Grunt was here?" she said, pointing her own can at the dripping red letters. "Come on. I bought you a can of spray paint and you go with the most basic…"

"You said it could be anything I want!" he said. "I'm Grunt. I was here."

"Doesn't mean I can't give you shit for it," she said.

"Fine," he said, reaching up towards older graffiti, then he put the finishing touches on a group of mangled stick figures. "There! One of the turning points of the Rachni wars."

"I show you the nearly untouched wall of some weird Salarian takeout place, and you graffiti a history lesson." The pristine concrete was an opportunity for mayhem and he didn't even appreciate it.

"It's a glorious battle! A bloodbath! You don't see it because I don't have any green, but…" He sniffed at the dumpster again. If he wanted to eat garbage, she wasn't going to stop him.

There was a sound at the end of the alley. Footsteps. She really fucking hoped it wasn't the cops. Then she looked over and almost wished for them.

"You two owe me," Zaeed said, walking towards them.

Jack leaned back against a dry section of wall and shoved her hands in her pockets. "You going to tell Shepard?"

"Nah," he said, lighting a cigarette. "I didn't have to get you from the cops, you two got some free time, I got some peace and quiet, so far as I care, what she doesn't know won't hurt her."

"How'd you find us?" Grunt said.

"I'm the best goddamn bounty hunter in the galaxy," he said. "I can find a pair of hooligans."

_**X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X** _

"So," Gianna said, setting down her beer. "Do I want to know?"

"You think I  _could_  tell you if you did?" Shepard leaned back in her chair and draped one of her arms over the back. It was taking all she had to focus on the moment rather than every other thing she had to worry about. In the span of two weeks, she'd left the crew to fend for themselves for two nights and she found herself uncomfortable with the pattern she was setting, but enjoying herself far too much to think too much about it.

"You wouldn't even if you could," she replied, almost managing to discretely lick foam from her lip. "You like your secrets Shepard." And Gianna liked to find them out. At least this time, they could take the time to enjoy each other the way they deserved.

"You know how it is," she said, beginning to fold back one of her shirt sleeves. "I could tell you, but…"

"…Then you'd have to kill me." Gianna sounded decidedly unimpressed by the whole matter. "Then you've got to go through the hassle of getting the bloodstains out of that nice waistcoat."

They both knew exactly what this was. Two people who were very good at what they did, but happened to be paid by people who had different interests and were too invested in being very good at their jobs for something more than a fleeting moment. It didn't mean they couldn't appreciate each other while they could.

"What can I say?" she said. Her drink was bitter and bright, far more pleasant than she normally found beer. She was unsure if it was due to the quality of the drink or her company. "Still getting business up and running in Nos Astra. I don't even have a decent drycleaner yet."

"What brings you to Illium if not the drycleaning? You know, that you can talk about," she said.

"Fate of the galaxy hangs in the balance," she said. She finished rolling up her sleeves turned her attention back to Gianna. "I'm the only one who can save it, nobody else competent enough to do the job. You know. Tuesday."

"Tuesday for me means more paperwork," Gianna said. Not for the first time, Mira found herself thinking about that nice new desk Cerberus gave her. This time, she found herself thinking of neatly stacking her folders on the side and having her way with her companion.

"Want to trade? I love paperwork." Maybe it was the sincerity in her voice, or the seeming absurdity of the statement, but Gianna laughed. It was almost a musical sound, warm as the sun in her stupid vacation fantasy and light as the waves on her beach. She wanted to hear it again.

"You would," she said. "I saw in the logs that you didn't go beyond the trams on Peak 15, but one of the scientist's pass cards was used to get into maintenance right before the melt down."

Mira laid a hand over her heart in mock shock and horror. "I have no idea what you're talking about." Sticky fingers and preoccupied scientists went a long way. The hardest part was keeping that damn Asari too distracted to notice what she was doing and using Omni-gel on locks like she was some kind of animal.

"Not that we can prove," she admitted, setting her beer aside for a moment. Warmth spread through her at the thought. "You're good Shepard. I'll give you that." She almost wished Gianna would press the point further. She suspected that they would both very much enjoy matching wits.

"Enough about me. I want to know more about you. Must be nice to having a job you enjoy."

"I wanted to be C-Sec or a cop on earth," she said. "But my family had bills. Needed the money a corporate job brought in and when you grow up like I did and they start waving paychecks in your face…"

"…you don't say no." Shepard smiled at her, almost reached for her hand. "It doesn't matter how much you earn, you still rifle through crates for whatever you can get your hands on that might be worth something."

"Besides, I don't see so many things that keep me up at night. White collar crime is nice and clean," she said.

"How'd you get started in internal affairs?" she asked. There was a sort of light in Gianna's eyes when she was talking about her job. She liked it, but there was a twinge of envy. Aside from her brief time as a Spectre, she hadn't had that much job satisfaction in years.

"Good grades and a competitive internship. I wasn't any good with the science, but it turns out I could always ferret out secrets. Then someone like me winds up surrounded by rich people and well, you get good at hiding who you really are."

"It's good for undercover work though," she said. "You do a lot of that?"

"It's not bad work. Go new places, be new people. The thing is, you get out and go home and you forget how to react, like it's another cover," she said. Somehow, she didn't sound disappointed by that.

"Come on," she said. She nearly gave Gianna her best TV smile, but thought better of it. They were two of a kind and she'd see right through it. "Deep down a part of you likes fooling people. It's what makes people like us good at what we do."

"It's not all bad. I still get the thrill of the chase and I go around the Galaxy's elite, taking notes and gathering evidence and they never see me coming," she said. "Asari always act so ageless and superior, until you get them dead to rights with a mountain of improperly filed tax forms, then they squeal like school girls."

"Uniform's not bad either," she said.

"At least I don't have to wear heels this time. What about you Shepard?" she asked. "You always want to spend your Tuesdays saving the galaxy?

"Hell no," she said. "I wanted to be a pirate." Just absurd sounding enough that it had to be a lie. "But good help was too hard to find and the Alliance was offering a fantastic scholarship package." When Gianna looked at her in disbelief, she added, "What? A woman has to have a little mystery."

"No fun without it," she agreed, finishing her beer and getting up from the table. "You busy tonight?"

"I don't know, I'll have to check my schedule," Mira said, standing and taking her blazer off the chair. "But I'm sure I can clear it for one night." She didn't think Gianna would mind if she left the next morning without saying goodbye.

"I've got a dealer I'm picking up for intellectual property theft," she said. "I can manage myself, but I'd like to see you in action again."

Clear calm pooled in her and Mira smiled sharp as razor wire in anticipation. "Thought someone like you wouldn't want to mix business and pleasure."

"The hell with it." Gianna's fingers tangled in her tie as she pulled Shepard in for a deep kiss. She was almost surprised to note that without heels, she almost had to bend down. Her lips tasted like an intoxicating mixture of plain chapstick and craft beer and Shepard's hands settled on her waist.

"Sounds like a date."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I almost titled this chapter, "Let FemShep Smooch Gianna Parasini 2K18." Also, I low-key subscribe to that one line from that Salarian bachelor party that implies that Asari look different to every species because shapeshifting aliens are just so much cooler than blue humans. I'm still trying to get into a routine at work. This may delay things going forwards. Also I may or may not add some content back into chapter fifteen at some point in the near future.


	20. Old Blood

In Shepard’s opinion, the average person should know at least four methods for picking a lock. Preferably, six. If they were under her tutelage, they should know a minimum of nine. This was, of course, assuming she was an exceptionally incompetent teacher. Mira Shepard was not one for making assumptions with such a plethora of contradictory evidence. However, as per usual, Grunt was not making her job easy for her.

“You can complain all you like,” she said, clipping a heavy padlock onto the cargo bay’s door. “You’re not leaving until you figure this out.”

It didn’t hurt that these lessons gave her an excuse to flood Lawson’s desk in requests for external data. If she believed Lawson’s line about it being a security measure implemented while docked on Nos Astra to protect the ship from the Shadow Broker’s agents, then she deserved whatever was coming to her. Whatever Lawson intended to get out of that little power play, she underestimated just how persistent and annoying Shepard was prepared to be. Just this morning, she’d requested an entire binder’s worth of information on lockpicking to give to Grunt.

“I’m not following you so I can play with locks,” he replied, itching at a patch of scales on his elbow. “That’s your job. That’s Kasumi’s job. Just tell me who to kill.”

He paced, restless and agitated. He and Jack had been mercifully well behaved after they left Nos Astra. She didn’t believe Zaeed’s story that they’d had a few beers and a game of dominoes in the park, but she figured that if they all came back in a decent mood and nobody died, they didn’t need to know that she knew. Yet in the span of a few days, something set him off.

 “I’ve been on this ship for weeks and I’ve done nothing!” he said, rage burning in his eyes as he rocked back on his heels, muscles coiling in preparation. “Less than nothing!”

“You can charge me if you like,” she said, casually placing a hand on her hip, just above her knife. “But if you do, please remember that this is a new shirt and I’ve still yet to find a decent cleaner.” She figured he got the message that he’d better be prepared to kill her.

He growled, took a step forwards. His eyes burned and her heart beat slow, but she didn’t look away. He was bigger than her. Even with her cybernetics, he was stronger. He’d received the finest education in combat and Jacob said that his body was catching up to what he knew. But she had a level head and could fit into the maintenance shafts.

She understood it, the feeling that you’re being wasted and misused. As such, she understood how to diffuse it.

“Your strength is an asset,” she said. “But there’s more to victory than charging headfirst into your enemy. I prefer to have a versatile team in the field and I want to make sure you’re being used to your fullest potential.”

“You only say that because you’ve already proven yourself,” he roared. “The ones that came before me, they fought until the end. They earned their strength. Mine was given and it’s being wasted!” 

“Then prove yourself,” she said. “Be more than even Okeer thought you could be. I can’t teach you to fight like a Krogan, but I can give you this.” She set a sturdy set of lock picks down on his cot.

“I wasn’t made to sneak around and stab people in the back,” he said, shaking his head. He began to pace again.  “Lately, I want…no. I need to get out of here and rip something apart. Kill it with my hands. ” He stopped by the window overlooking the shuttle bay. “Like I just want to…I don’t know…” The sound of shattering glass cut through the air.

 “Grunt,” she said. “Get yourself under control. I’ve made it perfectly clear on numerous occasions what kind of behavior is considered acceptable on this ship and…”

“Why would I do that?” he said. For a moment, his voice sounded painfully young. He staggered back and looked to her. There was still rage in his eyes, but now it was tempered with confusion and pain and fear. Blood slowly seeped from a gash on his forehead.

“I don’t like this.” He started to pace again. “When I’m fighting with Jack or Jacob, I feel…” He touched his fingertips to his forehead and snarled when they came away bloody. “Kelly says it’s focused. I’m not sure. Doesn’t matter. This isn’t that. Like a blood haze…The tank didn’t show me anything like this, just battles and…”

When Chakwas looked him over, she mentioned that his immune system seemed to be in perfect order, but Krogan medical data was difficult to get and there could be gaps in her knowledge. The last thing she needed was an infectious disease on her ship.

“Grunt, I need you to calm down,” she said, taking a cautious step towards him. When he didn’t make a move to stop her, she continued. “Did you start feeling like this after we left Nos Astra or before?”

“A little itchy before, but…I don’t know.” He looked to her like she would know how to fix this. “Fury is my choice. Not a sickness.”

“I want you to report to Doctor Chakwas immediately,” she said. She couldn’t do anything herself, but she’d give him whatever help he needed. Maybe see if they could find a Krogan doctor on Omega.

“No good,” he said. He shook off her hand as she tried to guide him to his cot. “My people were defeated by doctors and labs. Our medical records are fiercely guarded. She won’t…”

“She’s treated Krogan before and I want you to have that…” she pointed to the blood dripping down his face, “looked at before you get bloodstains on the floor.”

“It’s already healing! Alien doctors only see the victims of Krogan! She won’t know anything about this!” he said. She was three strides from a maintenance shaft. If he snapped again, she could cover the distance faster.  “And Krogan doctors don’t leave the homeworld…”

The comment about Tuchanka brought to mind a conversation she’d had with Mordin earlier about a student he was worried about. At the time, she said they couldn’t do anything about Maelon’s capture. If they set foot in council space, they’d have half the fleet on their tail before they cleared the relay. Now though, she was beginning to see the situation differently.

After this was over, she’d still need a team.  The Illusive Man had given her one. And for things to work out, she’d need them to trust her. She’d need their loyalty. She needed to prove that her people were not wrong to put their faith in her when she led them into hell.

“Do you want to be looked at by a Krogan doctor?” she said, stepping back from him. It had to be his choice.

“I…” He shook his head to try to clear the fog. “Yes.”

She picked up the lockpicks from where she left them on the cot. “Then I’ll let Moreau know to set course for Tuchanka.”

**_X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X_ **

“Shepard!” Wrex said, pushing past arguing advisors and extending a hand to her. The old Krogan looked much the same as when she left him on the Citadel. A few new scars here and there, but nonetheless good.

“Wrex,” she said. When she went to shake his hand, he grabbed at her wrist and clapped her on the back. It would bruise, but he’d be a fool not to check her for concealed weapons and he wouldn’t respect her if she didn’t have at least three.

“My friend.” If she was surprised how decent that made her feel, she didn’t let it show. They were running a high risk even being here. They had a few days at most before somebody picked up on their trail. It was good to see another friendly face. “You look well for dead. Knew you were too stubborn for the void to take you.”

“And leave the galaxy to fend for itself?” she said. “Without somebody to remind everybody to file their goddamn paperwork, the place would be chaos.”

“Rings on all the coffee tables,” Garrus added.

For a moment, Wrex looked like he was going to press the issue. Then he thought better of it. Instead, he cast a suspicious glare at Grunt. The young Krogan surveyed the dais with an expression somewhere between disappointment and disgust.

“How are you Wrex?” Tali said, coming up behind her. “I haven’t had a chance to email you lately.” 

“It’s good to see you too Tali,” Wrex said, giving her a warm look, a firm handshake, and a far gentler pat on the back than she’d received. “My engineers went over your suggestions, made some changes. Kept trying to turn solar panels into a death ray, something about focusing the sunlight, but I talked them down to just frying anyone who tries to mess with them with the discharge.”

“I’d love to see their plans for the death ray,” Tali said. She made a note to keep Tali far away from Krogan engineers for the foreseeable future.

“One of my men can show you the new installation,” Wrex said.

“Looks like you’ve gone up in the world,” Shepard said. His armor was new, dirty and scratched already from Tuchanka, but as well cared for as what he wore on the Normandy. “Being clan leader suits you.”

“You made the rise of Urdnot possible,” he said. “Destroying Saren’s cure freed us from his manipulations. Used it to spur the clans to unite under Urdnot.” She was just happy Ash didn’t need to pull the trigger on Virmire.

“And you’ve abandoned…” Wrex turned to his advisor. Fixed him with a look that dared him to finish his sentence, “…many traditions to get your…” The next thing she knew, Wrex’s head smashed into the smaller Krogan’s. Uvenk staggered back, clutching his head.

“Speak when spoken to Uvenk.” He stepped away. The other Krogan wasn’t worth his time. “I’ll drag your clan to glory whether it likes it or not.” He led her towards a pile of concrete and rubble that could have almost passed for a throne. “What brings you to Tuchanka Shepard?”

She looked to Grunt, gestured for him to step up. He was almost too distracted by a varren to notice, but stood beside her nonetheless. “Wrex, this is Grunt. Grunt, this is Urdnot Wrex.”

“Grunt?” he asked, not quite believing his choice in name.

Grunt didn’t respond, just glared at Wrex. Sizing him up. For Grunt’s sake, she would have to keep their interactions from escalating. 

“We’re looking for a doctor,” she explained. “He’s been feeling ill lately and we would like an expert to evaluate him.”

Wrex stepped closer to get a better look at Grunt. Grunt was just barely taller. Stronger. Less strategic. Quicker to anger. Her money was on Wrex.

“How old are you?”

“Two weeks.”

“Still collecting smartasses Shepard? The mouthy Turian not enough for you?” Tali giggled. “Where are you from whelp?” he asked, circling around Grunt. “Was your clan destroyed before you learned what was expected of you?”

“I have no clan,” he said. “I was tank bred by Warlord Okeer, my mind distilled from…”

“You’re born of a syringe,” Uvenk said, staggering back to the dais.  

“I am pure Krogan.” Wrex shot her a glance, asking if she was fucking kidding him. She shook her head. “You should be in awe.”

“Okeer is an old name. A very hated name.”

“He’s dead,” she said. “Does his name still mean anything?”

“Vicious Warlord. Countless dead,” Wrex said. “Now apparently toying with genetics. Hmmm…” He scratched his chin. “A clone undertaking the rite…”

“Tank bred allowed status as an adult?” another one of the advisors muttered. Green armor, green plates. She didn’t quite catch his name.

“There’s nothing wrong with him Shepard,” Wrex said. “Physically anyway. He’s becoming an adult. I don’t care what aliens call it. Krogan his age undergo the rite of passage.”

“This is too far!” the advisor in green said, storming off the dais. “Your clan may rule, but this _thing_ is not Krogan!”

“Idiot,” Wrex muttered at his retreating back. “Grunt, do you wish to stand with Urdnot?”

“What exactly does this require?” she said before Grunt could respond. She wasn’t going to let him agree to anything if he didn’t know what he was getting himself into.

“Not for me to say Shepard,” he replied.

“And if he doesn’t want to?”

“If he was here, he’d die. The clanless are not respected Shepard. Tankbreds even less so.” Simple. Matter of fact. She wasn’t getting any more information about the rite from Wrex.

“What do you want to do Grunt.” He looked to her, expecting guidance. “It’s your choice.”

He turned away, paced to the edge of the dais and stood looking at the camp for a minute. Dust and sand from Tuchanka settled around his feet and in the grooves in his armor while he took in the sights of varren fighting and the smells of cooking meat of dubious origins. From somewhere in the distance, there was the retort of canon fire. Curious clan members looked their way.

“Yes,” he said, his fists curling tight as he turned back to them. “I’ll undergo the rite.”

“Smart boy,” Wrex said, clapping him on the shoulder. “If you survive, we could use you.”

“And you’ll just let a tank bred join your clan?” she said, carefully positioning herself between Grunt and Wrex.

“I wouldn’t do this if you didn’t vouch for him. It will take time to arrange the rite.” He pointed to a balcony overlooking the courtyard. “Go speak with the Shaman. Put on a good show for him. He’ll set you on the right path.”

 He nodded and a pair of guards led him away. She asked Tali to go with them to keep an eye on things, then turned her attention to her less pleasant business on Tuchanka.

“May I speak with you privately?” she said. Wrex waved his hand, dismissing his other advisors. “Sounded like you’re having trouble with another clan. Weyrloc?”

“Hate politics,” he said. Even if he was proving rather adept at them. He had to be to keep a camp of this size united for as long as he had. “Weyrloc’s been a chunk of rebar in my side for months now. Keep trying to poach my scientists. Promised them that they’d get to design explosives instead of fertilizer.”

“Grunt’s a good boy -strong, smart, almost as hardheaded as me- but he’s not the only reason I’m on Tuchanka,” she said, lighting a cigarette. “Clan Weyrloc kidnapped one of my crewmate’s associates. Looks bad if I let the Bloodpack get away with that. Let me take care of Weyrloc. They look weak because they were taken out by a human, I get some peace of mind. Everybody wins.”

Except for Weyrloc’s leadership, who would be dead.  

“Shepard, cut the crap,” he said. He always could see right through her. “Don’t talk to me like the council.”  

“Sorry, but look Wrex. You know me. I’m going after the Bloodpack whether you want me to or not, but I’d rather do it with your permission,” she said. He glared at her, deciding whether or not it was worth pressing for her real motives. Wrex trusted her before.

“You’re asking if I’d give you permission to kill my enemies,” Wrex said. “Hell Shepard. If I didn’t have stuff to take care of here, I’d go with you. Have to keep these short sighted fools in line. Between the budgets and all the projects, I’m starting to understand your fixation for office supplies…”

**_X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X_ **

Gas hissed. Too far to read label, but several possible options for identity. From smell and location in Krogan hospital, likely fuel. Power by combustion primitive and inefficient, but useful for their purposes. Highly flammable. Inflammable. Word choice unimportant in context. Connotations same when the tank shot by commanding officer.

Mordin checked his incendiary charges. Given size of puncture, twenty seconds to ideal time to detonate. Would take out significant portion of walkway. Likely kill any guards within three meters of epicenter. Prior to taking into account fuel in pyromaniac Vorcha’s flamethrowers. Taking Vorcha into account, should provide more than sufficient subsequent explosions to neutralize majority of Weyrloc guards.

“Ha! The human can’t even hit a simple target…” the Speaker ranted. He took an incendiary out of his pocked and primed it.

Shepard stood her ground with a cool, impassive look on her face. She flicked her eyes to him, then to the tank. Same idea. Good. Didn’t have to waste time explaining why room exploded.

“That’s the thing sir,” Shepard said, folding her hands behind her back. Her voice was low and so piercing even the Vorcha looked unsettled. “I don’t miss.”

He threw the charge and a flashbang detonated at Shepard’s feet. Time to scatter. Heat from blast scorched his skin as he jumped behind a crate and smell of burning flesh reminded him of unfortunate lab accident in his youth. Probable superficial blistering on remaining horn. Could wait to treat until after Maelon secure.

Mordin opened his omni-tool and readied neural shock protocol. Remaining Krogan could be stunned via overloading armor and omni-tool’s medical programs. Could possibly kill weakened Vorcha or varren. Few guards left after explosion. Should make short work of remainder.

No walkway either. Would have to repurpose cryo solution for cooling metal instead of sample preservation so they could climb up to door.

Thunder crack of sniper fire informed that Garrus had found sufficient cover. Shepard nowhere to be seen, but Vorcha falling with visible stab wounds indicated location.  He took aim at Krogan near latest dead Vorcha. A brief flash of near infrared light, then Krogan’s head tipped back in agony. It fell moments later with gunshot wound under chin. Redundant organs and nervous system. No redundant brain.

Nice working with young people again. Very enthusiastic about work.  Shepard and Garrus prone to attempting to one up each other with banter, but nonetheless good to work with. Very effective.

Remaining guards fell to coordinated efforts. Shepard blinked back into view beside him, gauntlets bloody but personally unharmed.

“Should wait for metal to sufficiently equilibrate to avoid cold damage to skin,” he said, changing the settings of his preservation protocol to better suit the task at hand. Burning hot metal hissed as it was met by coolant. Would use up entire supply on cooling wreckage. Unable to take biological samples if desired later in mission.

Irrelevant. Maelon’s safety the priority. Scientific inquiries from Maelon’s forced work on genophage could be done verbally after mission was complete and Maelon secure.

When deemed safe, Shepard was first to climb up and through the blown open door. Much to his consternation, he required a boost from Garrus to follow. Apparently not as nimble as he used to be.

They took the halls slowly. Blood Pack tended to announce their presence long before visual contact via sheer noise, but there could be traps.

They found the first victim of Krogan research at the base of a stairwell. Human. Unable to tell if slave, mercenary, or otherwise from preliminary medical scan. Origins and how they spent their life unimportant. From the scans, he could see mutations made to the endocrine system.

Even under the circumstances, he couldn’t help but feel a bit of pride at Maelon’s work. Horrific to be certain, but even captured, tortured, and under duress, Maelon’s work excellent. Must have been early in development if using non-Krogan research subjects. No way to tell for sure how Krogan body would respond to treatments if only tested in aliens.

Next step would be species native to Tuchanka. Varren for example. Possibly pyjak as species obviously thrived on planet despite radiation and poor foraging opportunities. Also less likely to bite hand off when feeding.

Still, conceptually untested and early stage research performed on live, sentient test subjects. Blood pack captors forcing Maelon to horrific ends. Needed to get all information possible from test subject in order to understand conditions he was working under and progress made into project.

“Hate fighting through hospitals,” Garrus commented, breaking his focus. “Either too many innocent bystanders or it’s abandoned and creepy.”

“It’s just an empty building,” Shepard said.

“You didn’t have a sister who made you watch Rogue Cabals of Colony Tiberius Seven,” Garrus said.

“As I recall,” Mordin said, packing in his scanner. “Archangel and squad had a shootout with Blue Suns outside my clinic. Almost had to become involved due to proximity.”

“I kept it a safe distance!” he insisted, peering around the corner.

“What is fun to fight through then?” Shepard sounded too genuinely curious for her own good.

“Gardens, electronic shops, antique stores, but only if they’re classy,” he replied. “Doesn’t look like anybody’s coming. Scanner’s clear too. We should be good to move whenever you’re ready.”

“Almost done,” Mordin replied. “Making notes on condition of body.” Recently deceased. Discarded in starwell. No methods taken to preserve test subject. If work as valuable as Genophage cure, he would have kept a subject such as this one for later study.

When he was finished, they methodically worked their way through the remainder of the hospital. Blood pack hadn’t given Maelon the most sanitary or ideal of conditions to work under. Abandoned and crumbling ruin of Krogan hospital provided unique challenge. Would have been interesting to work in if under other circumstances.

They soon came to a hall with a series of ruined labs. The smell of decaying flesh and disinfectant permeated the space. He readied his pistol as they checked each room one by one. A hacked research terminal indicated Maelon further into research than previously thought.

The smell of death intensified as they approached the last lab. He knew what they’d find on the other side of the door. He’d seen Maelon’s data on the console. Yet like field data, he had to see it for himself. He was the lead scientist on the project. His responsibility to see project through. His responsibility to see the effects. To know what they’d done. Methods necessary, but had to see cost.

An exam table. Blood. Motionless Krogan. They approached slowly. Shepard and Garrus with guns drawn. He knew better.

“Dead Krogan,” he said, taking out a scanner to examine the body. “Female. Tumors indicate experimentation.” There was a familiar twinge in his chest. Like the year he came back for water samples and heard the keening of a Nakmor mother for her lost clutch. “No restraint marks. Volunteer.”

“Why would anybody volunteer for this?” Garrus said, coming a little closer. He remained C-Sec approved distance from body. Examined incisions from autopsy like police detective. Not like doctor. Ghost of old case flickered across face when he inquired about number of organs.

“Sterile Weyrloc female,” he said. “Willing to risk procedures. Hoped for cure. Pointless. Pointless waste of life.” Her death was not his work. Only a reaction to it.  

“Garrus,” Shepard said, drawing closer to Mordin. “I need you to stand watch outside.” He heard the Turian’s light footfalls as he reluctantly left the room. He didn’t hear Shepard’s until she was next to him. “What was it like working on the genophage modification project?”

“Best years of my life,” he said, scanning the body. “Wake up, discuss over breakfast. Experiments all morning. Statistical analysis in the afternoon. Run new simulations during dinner. Set data to cook overnight. Laughter, argument, ego, passion. Galaxy’s biggest problem. Resources thrown at us. Got anything we wanted.”

“You went from all that to a clinic on Omega?” she said.

“Wanted to heal people,” he said. The Krogan’s face was young. Barely out of adolescence. “Good use of last decade. Easy. No ethical concerns.” Still young enough to hope for a cure while tumors ravaged her body.

Never wanted this. Could see how they got here from his work, the logical steps. But not the intention. Foolish waste of life.

“After the deployment, what kind of work was done to monitor the situation?” Unable to read her voice. Could be curiosity. Could be judgement.

“Came back for yearly recon missions. Water and tissue samples,” he said, not looking away from his scanner. “Superiors offered to carry it on. Refused. Needed to see in person. Needed to see small picture. Accept as necessary.”  

“And was it?” Curious. Oddly curious.

“Genophage modification project great in scope. Brilliant, but ethically difficult. Krogan reaction visceral,” he said, wiping blood from her plates. Her files had only subject number. 062. No name. Should have name. “Not guilty, but responsible. Hard to see big picture behind pile of corpses.”

“But somebody has to.”

“Sometimes wish I wasn’t so intelligent. Wouldn’t have to make these choices. Foolish wish. If not me, then someone else. End result the same. Had to be me. Anyone else might have gotten it wrong.”

For a while they were quiet while he finished examining the body. Not good silence. But necessary one. Shepard was the one to break it.

“When I ordered the fleet to move in on the Destiny Ascension, I bought humanity’s place in the galaxy with the lives of thousands,” she said in response. Not a confession. Just a fact. She did what she had to do.

“Not the same thing Shepard. You were short on time to make decision. I ran tens of thousands of simulations of unchecked Krogan expansion. One consistent outcome: extinction by hands of united Human and Turian front,” he replied. They spent hours in the lab swapping stories, couching things in hypotheticals and this was uncomfortably real.

“You did the math and came to the conclusion that this was the best option. So did I,” she said, folding the Krogan female’s hands over her chest. “I didn’t run simulations with you. I didn’t spend hours in your lab doing research. I never went into the field to take follow up samples.” Her voice was uncharacteristically soft. “I’m not saying what we did was even remotely similar, just that it’s not my place to judge.” This, somehow, feels worse.

“Understand rational for modified genophage,” he said, setting aside the scanner. “Right choice. Still hard to sleep some nights.” He shut the Krogan’s eyes. “Rest young mother. Find your gods. Find someplace better.”

**_X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X_ **

“How was I supposed to disagree with the great Doctor Solus?” Maelon shouted. “I was your student! I looked up to you!” He jabbed an accusing finger at him.

“Experimental parameters unacceptable! Live subjects! Prisoners! Torture and execution!” he replied. Tone unacceptable for academic debate. Left academic hypotheticals about ethics behind long ago.

“We’ve already got the blood of millions on our hands! If it takes more to put it right, then so be it!” Maelon gestured to the datasets on the screen. Fields of neon blue and orange. Color coding of some sort. Maelon always favored complimentary colors in organizational systems. “If my experiments are monstrous, it was because I was taught to be a monster!”

“No. Never taught you this Maelon.” Never taught him use live subjects. Never taught him to use non-consenting test subjects. Never taught torture and executions.

“You taught me the ends justifies the means,” he said. His voice calmer now. His eyes steady. “I will undo what we did Professor. The only way I know how.” He began to turn back to the screen, either oblivious to Locust trained on his head or uncaring.

“Maelon clearly doesn’t need rescuing,” Shepard said. No. Mistaken about condition of student. “How should we proceed?”

“Have to end this,” Mordin said. Closing in on Maelon like walking through agar gel.

“You can’t admit that your brilliant mind led you to commit an atrocity.” Click of pistol. Carnifex. No time to hesitate.

His knuckles stung and Maelon fell back. He felt sick as his finger settled on the trigger, but it was his only option. Let Maelon live. Best case scenario, continues research. Seen work. Years from cure. More die. Funding runs out before end goal achieved. Nothing changes. Worst, he tells Krogan about genophage modification. Second rebellion. Krogan extinction.

“The Krogan didn’t deserve what we did to them Professor!” he spat. “The genophage needs to…”

It’s over in an instant. Maelon slumped on terminal. Hot pit in stomach. All that was left here was to tie up loose ends. Had to focus on mission. Would be time to mourn later.

He heard Shepard come up behind him. Moving like she did on engineering deck. Wanted Jack to know where she was. Not scare her. She hesitated with her hand inches from his shoulder. Asking permission to touch him. Humans usually very physical. Shepard not so much.

“I’m sorry Commander.” He gave a slight nod. She laid a hand on his back. “Misunderstood mission parameters. No kidnapping.” Just more victims. His own student dead by his hand. Driven to abhorrent ends by guilt. “My mistake.”

“Don’t worry about me Mordin,” she said. “How are you doing?”

“Disappointed. Thought Maelon better than that.” Maelon years from cure. Didn’t teach him everything he knew. Still, made good progress. Odd mix of pride and shame mingling in chest. “Was wrong. Knew he was young. Impressionable. Should have talked to him after. Gotten him through guilt…”

“You can’t change the past. Only the future.” She stood beside him again and watched as he scrolled through data. “You’re a doctor.” Doesn’t feel like it now. Swore oaths, but evidence he didn’t keep them all around them. “You opened a clinic on Omega to heal people. He started torturing prisoners. That was his choice.”

“Where to lie fault irrelevant. Maelon dead. Problem solved.”  Quick. Snappish.  “Only one loose end. Could destroy it. Closure. Security…”

“It could be valuable.” He did what he had to do. She had to understand implications of genophage cure.

“Should destroy it. Worked for years to modify genophage,” he said. “Maelon’s research could cure it. Lead to Krogan expansion. All simulations point to extinction. So many variables. Too many.”

“Seems like a waste,” she said. “Years of work, blood, tears, sacrifice…” Unsure whose work she’s talking about.

“You think I should save data?”

“What I think doesn’t matter.” Yet it does to him. “It’s your choice.” He saved the data before wiping Maelon’s hard drives. Better to have it. Maybe one day, need it. Impatient. Doesn’t want to wait for next life to fix mistakes.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing really to say here this time around. My original intention was to do Grunt and Mordin together in one chapter, but this kind of got away from me. At least the next one will be somewhat quick. Will also be making changes to some old chapters, mostly revisions and such. Thanks to everybody who’s reviewed, commented, kudos’d, etc.


	21. Rite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Urdnot Grunt performs an extermination.

 Mira Shepard was a firm believer in diplomacy. There was something satisfying about finding what someone wanted, learning to speak their language, and making what she wanted seem like what they wanted. Then she’d look her enemy in the eye and with a few well-chosen words, diffuse the situation entirely.

So far, it’d saved her from, among other things, biotic terrorists, hostage situations, negotiations with pirates over mining rights, and many, many meetings with the council. It had yet to truly fail her. On innumerable occasions, it saved her from having to put herself in danger in order to accomplish her goals.

Unfortunately, sometimes diplomacy required headbutting a Krogan.

**_X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X_ **

Shepard fought like a coward. Efficient and deadly sure, but a coward. She vanished into thin air the moment the varren showed up. Then when her cloak needed to cool, she’d show up in cover cleaning blood from her knives. She switched to her rifle and hung back by the turbines when the fire bugs made close quarters too hot for her to handle.

He laughed at his own joke. It was the only entertainment he was getting tonight. He wished Jack was here. If she was, this would at least be fun. They had a good time fighting the Eclipse mercs. But Shepard gave him a choice between Zaeed and Jacob for the third member of his Krant. He liked Jacob just fine, but he was a bit too serious.

This rite was supposed to test him. The dumb beasts weren’t even worthy of being called real enemies. He and his Krant cut them down. All unworthy. Like this planet. All dust and sand and rubble. Nothing like what the tank showed him.

The tank showed him a Tuchanka bathed in the glory of battle. Armies conquering under the banners of Warlords. He’d only been to two planets, but even Illium seemed more worth fighting for than this.

He drove the butt of his shotgun through another klixen. He felt a grim joy at the viscera coating his hands. This was his purpose after all. After weeks of being told he wasn’t ready, he was finally allowed to fight against real enemies.

The slime flicked from his hands as he wheeled and ripped through another’s exoskeleton. He threw an antennae to the ground and snarled.

He was supposed to learn something from this. At the camp, he hoped this would quiet his mind. Finish the Rite and his anger would be his again. It wasn’t. Now, it was compounded by an insult of a fight.

Sparring with Jacob had been more of a challenge than this. Shoot. Rip. Bludgeon. Easy. Meaningless. When the last one fell, he kicked it frustration and he still felt nothing.

The old man checked his rifle. Something caught Shepard’s eye and she split off to check on one of the bodies. He continued to the keystone. Time to get this over with.

His fist slammed into the button and he hammer drilled into the ground. He started to make his way back to the tunnels. He was done waiting.  

The speakers crackled and the Urdnot Shaman said, “Now, all Krogan bear the Genophage. Our reward. Our curse. It is a fight where the only goal is survival.”

He descended the steps, but nothing came. The proving ground was still and silent.

“Grunt,” Shepard said. He turned and at first he thought she cloaked again. Shepard knelt by a corpse, so still he could have mistaken her for one of the rocks. “Please come back to the platform.” He knew her tone. The polite one Jack said was creepy. The one even the pilot knew better than to argue with.

The smell of fear followed Shepard around like her fancy new cologne. In time, he learned that fear or no fear, Shepard would do what she needed to do to bend the world to her will. This was different. Sharper. He didn’t have to obey.

He continued on towards the tunnels, past the bodies of the fallen. Whatever was next, it had better worth his time. He’d heard what the other Krogan said at the camp. He’d show them what he was capable of.

The ground shook and he grinned. Whatever it was, it was big. Finally, something worth fighting. Then it stopped. Once again, Shepard politely asked him to return to the platform. He went further and checked his gun.

The tunnel was empty, except for a dead varren on the steps. Its blood soaked into the concrete from a jagged wound in its throat.

He bounced on his heels. The wait was killing him. He wanted something that would give him a real challenge. Dust flew behind the walls of the proving ground. This would be glorious.

Just as it was getting close, the dust cloud stopped and the ground went still. He snarled and narrowed his eyes. The thing wasn’t getting away from him! It had to come back!

“Get. To. Cover.” Her words were sharp and forceful, like a knife through old leather.

 The hammer slammed into the ground one final time and Tuchanka erupted. A plume of sand and concrete flew up into the sky and from it emerged a writhing, shrieking beast. Its mandibles flared and he could only stare in awe as the Thresher Maw threw its head back and screamed into the dying sunlight.

“Finally!” he said. He grinned. It drew its head back and Shepard said something he was too elated to hear.  “Something worth figh…”

The next thing he knew, he was on his back, his gun knocked from his hands. His ears rang and the smell of melting armor stung his nose. The Maw thrashed above him, acid venom flying from its mouth. Something deep and old and ugly gripped at his throat and chest and made his legs too weak to stand.

“Zaeed, give me cover,” Shepard said, calm and methodical as ever. “I’m going to get those turbines back on line.”

“The bloody hell are you going to do with goddamn turbines?” the old man asked. “Those things are salvage!”  

“Nearly salvage,” she corrected. “I’m going to confuse the hell out of it.”

He swiped at his chest. His armor hissed and sizzled and his hand itched as the acid started to eat away at his gauntlets.

There was a banging noise from behind him. Something hitting one of the columns. The maw turned away from him and shrieked, only to be caught in the face by an incendiary.

“Grunt,” a soft voice said. “I need you to be quiet and stay still.” The smell of melting armor was so strong he almost didn’t notice Shepard switching them to a private channel. “Did the tank ever show you something like this?”

Sand and rubble fell from the Maw’s head. Its cries told him to take cover. All the regenerative ability in the galaxy wouldn’t save him once the acid ate through his armor. His back teeth knocked together and his pulse quickened. Shepard said to stay still. She’d once fought three of them.

“No.” He’d seen one once. He caught a few seconds of a video Jack was watching before he decided the rage pouring off of her was too much even for him.

“Then listen to me,” Shepard was polite and calm again. Not to be disobeyed. “Are you scared?”

He was pure Krogan. He was distilled from history’s greatest warlords. He was supposed to be perfect, but his knees were weak and he couldn’t get a full breath. The nameless ones who came before him, they met their fates without fear. Generations of Krogan fought the Maw, yet the acid eating into his chestplate filled him with the kind of dread he chose to think he couldn’t name.

He wasn’t afraid. He wasn’t supposed to be afraid. He was made for this. To fight and struggle against things nobody else could and prove his strength. The Maw was a worthy challenge. If he was afraid to face it, then he was worthless. Fit only to be left here for the worm.

Should have been left at the facility. Dumped from his tank like all the rest to be blown apart by the mercenaries. He was less than perfect. Unworthy…

“It’s okay.” It wasn’t. He was pure Krogan. He wasn’t supposed to be afraid of battle. “I am too.” But Shepard wasn’t him. He was supposed to be perfect. If he wasn’t, then he should have been hunted down like the others.

 “But you faced…” The Maw turned towards him, only to be caught by another concussive shot. It screeched and ducked back under ground.

“Be quiet.” The AI’s voice had more expression than Shepard’s. “It can’t see you. It just feels you.”

The ground shook again and he followed the trail of dust kicked up by the Maw as it circled around the walls.

“The first time I ever saw one, I didn’t know what to do and that scared me more than the Thresher Maw.” The Maw erupted from the ground again, throwing rubble from its head. “I didn’t survive Akuze because I was brave or strong. I was just too scared to do anything else.”

An incendiary grenade detonated on the other side of the proving grounds. The Maw’s head darted towards it, its mandibles snapping at the dirt and debris.

“But I survived,” she said. “And I learned.”  

“Didn’t make me any less scared the next time I saw one, -I’d be stupid not to be. It’s bigger than I am, I can’t reason with it, recommended gear when dealing with a Maw is a tank...” The Maw spat at something on the platform. A column crumbled and fell on one of the bodies with the crunch of bone and squelch of decaying flesh. Zaeed swore at her to get a move on.  “But I used it. And I survived.”

 “You’ve trained for this. Jacob tells me you’re doing very well. You _are_ ready to face it, so when I tell you to, you’re going to get back up and you’re going to run.”

“Just be patient. Be smart,” she said. He thought he caught a flicker on top of one of the columns. “And refuse to die.”

The turbines roared from behind him and the Maw writhed and lunged for the one on the left. It fell short, scraping its belly on the walls of the proving ground. The thunder of gunfire split the dusk and the Maw reeled back in a sudden spray of acid blood.

It shrieked and turned towards Shepard. He rolled to get his gun. The Maw reared its head back, ready to spit again, but before it could, he fired on it. Shepard vanished again, but he knew it didn’t matter. The Maw could feel her. So he took aim again.

“Get to cover!” Zaeed shouted over the roar of the turbines.

“The Commander…”

“Is too bloody stubborn to let a Thresher Maw kill her,” he replied. “Get the hell back here!” Reluctantly, he retreated towards cover. The old man took his uninjured hand to help him up onto the platform and tossed him a pack of medi-gel.

It wouldn’t stop anything. His skin itched. Soon, it would blister and burn. But the gel felt cool. Let him hold the gun steady.  

The Maw shrieked and spat wildly and when it lunged again, it hit the other turbine. A blade cut through the air and dug into the dirt in front of them and a mandible writhed and flopped on the stairs.

The Maw reared back, its head a mess of blood and smoldering flesh, but strong as ever. It could survive him as it had thousands of Krogan before. But not Shepard. She made it think there was something big in its territory. The distraction wouldn’t last long, the turbines were little better than salvage, but they had a chance.

“Don’t think we have to kill it,” Shepard said. “Just have to wait it out.”

“No,” he said.

The Maw ducked back under and started to circle again.

“I won’t think any less of you if…” No. She wouldn’t. But she believed in him. Shepard kept giving him new things to learn.  Thought he could do great things even when he was less than perfect. If she thought he could do this, he had to try.

“No,” he snarled. “We’re going to kill it.”

“Alright. Then you have to do exactly as I say.” Shepard popped into view, holding a rocket launcher. “Did the tank show you anything about this?” He grinned. The tank showed him lots of things about how to use that.

“Where did you…” he asked, taking it from her. He tested the weight. It felt good. Hard to grip with his bad hand, but he could manage. Jacob kept telling him to focus and take the time do whatever he was doing right. He could focus on the objective. Hold the thing steady for long enough to pull the trigger.

“Salvaged it,” Zaeed said, giving the weapon a cursory glance. “Not sure you found the right ammo, but it’ll do.”

“Don’t like a fair fight. This is as close to my kind of odds as we’re going to get,” she said. “Really wishing I had a Mako right now…” He did too. Tali told him stories about the Commander. Her driving sounded exciting. Zaeed on the other hand visibly blanched. “You want to aim for the mouth. Anywhere else, you’re just going to make it angry.”

He nodded and broke for the turbine, his heart racing. The Maw would surface as close as it could and when it did, he would be ready.

The turbine banged, made it hard to focus. He followed the dust cloud and tried not to think about somebody else’s memories of the Rachni war. Acid eating into bone. Leeching minerals and weakening structure. Unstoppable pain.

He took a breath and dug in his heels. It would be okay. Shepard was afraid too. Her enemies were dead.

And when the worm emerged, screaming and writhing in Tuchanka’s dying sunlight, he felt it again. The thrill of the fight flowing through him with every beat of his heart. The Maw was ancient and powerful. Only someone like him could stand against it.

And as it lunged, he thought he got it. Only the Krogan could withstand Tuchanka and match its fury. It didn’t matter where he’d come from or who taught him to hold a gun.  This was his birthright.  The home of his ancestors.

It grew closer and time seemed to slow down. The world shrank to hold just him and the charging Thresher Maw. He only had one shot. Had to wait for just the right moment. There was a flash of a blue tongue and he knew it was time.

 “I am Krogan!”

He fired. The remains of the head came to rest at his feet. He felt excited. Happy. No. Almost the right words. Not quite. It wasn’t important. He’d figure that out later. He’d killed the thing!

Zaeed clapped him on the shoulder. Shepard just took his hand. He hissed and tried to yank it back, but despite her deceptively gentle grip, she held firm.

“Stop fidgeting.” She didn’t quite sound like herself. Like she was copying somebody else. “Does it feel like it’s burning or…”

“Itches,” he said. Still, he let her examine his blistered hand. It felt nice. Almost warm. He didn’t have a word for that feeling yet. Maybe later, he’d ask Kelly. She was good at that. Giving him words for things he couldn’t himself name.

She took out a canteen and ran a slow trickle of water over his hand. “This won’t fix things. When the Shaman comes back, you _will_ have it looked at.”

From the sounds of a shuttle in the distance, he wouldn’t have to wait long. He was disappointed. He wanted more. He could handle more. Maybe when they got back he’d see if Jack or Jacob wanted to spar.

Or maybe he’d ask the Shaman more about the Krogan. He knew a lot about battles. Not a lot about the people. Maybe not. He didn’t think he’d be able to sit still.

The shuttle touched down, but the Shaman didn’t get out. Perhaps he’d get his fight after all. The old man palmed a grenade. Shepard simply watched Uvenk with a blank expression on her face.

“You live,” Uvenk said, stepping out of the transport. “And you brought down the Thresher Maw. Nobody has done this in generations.” Grunt was almost surprised. But then again, Shepard was cunning and both she and Zaeed were too stubborn to quit.

“My Krant gave me strength beyond my genes,” he said. Sand clung to his boots as he took a step towards Uvenk. “Which are damn good.”

“I wonder…You will start discussion. This may be a loophole…” Uvenk paced in front of them. Loopholes were what Shepard used when blatant lies didn’t get her out of docking fees. “You are pure? No alien intervention, just Okeer? This deserves consideration…”

“Why?” he shot back. “I’m not getting any more natural.”

“You are a mistake…”

“Fuck off,” Zaeed said.

“…But you are powerful,” Uvenk went right on ranting. “Your potential could tip the balance between clans…” He was young, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew exactly what Uvenk would say next.

“You stopped ranting because I am strong!” he replied.

“With restrictions of course. You could not breed and you would be barred from serving on alien ships, too much exposure already, but you would be clan. Gatatog is on the verge of greatness or collapse.

“What do you think Grunt?” Shepard said, crossing her arms behind her back. “Sounds like a good offer.” At the camp, she stood between him and Urdnot Wrex. Now, she stepped back to make a clear path to Uvenk. “It’s your choice.” She wouldn’t stop him if he left.

He took a tentative step towards Uvenk. He’d spent his whole life onboard the Normandy among aliens. He was only just now beginning to understand what being Krogan meant.

Grunt clasped Uvenk’s hand firmly in his. Before he acted, he caught Uvenk’s eyes and made sure he caught Grunt’s intentions. He was Krogan. He was loyal to his Krant. And when he saw Uvenk realize it, he snapped his head back and slammed it into Uvenk’s.

“Worthless,” he said, letting the other Krogan fall to the ground. Uvenk’s clan was on them in a second.

There was the smell of smoke and a flash of light from behind him. An incendiary detonated over the heads of the Gatatog. His Krant was strong. Loyal. He couldn’t believe Uvenk would think he’d leave them to be clan Gatatog’s trophy.

This was an insult to his Clan’s honor. He almost didn’t want to waste his time on this battle, but this fight was his damn it. Fighting for something. It felt good. Calm. Focused. His blood fury was truly his again.

The remains of the Gatatog scattered before his Krant and he was almost disappointed when the fight was over and they saw the Shaman’s shuttle in the distance.

Shepard stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “Grunt, I’m proud of you.”

Somehow, this felt almost as good as killing the Thresher Maw.

**_X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X_ **

Jack kicked at the dirt and growled right back at one of the Varren running around the camp.

Grunt was an idiot for trusting that bitch. Shepard wasn’t looking out for them. Before the cheerleader shut her out of the files, she saw the videos the shrink downloaded. Akuze Subject 36. Left the rest of her squad for dead.

Shepard thought she had them all fooled. Everyone else was so convinced she was so special and different, that she cared about her crew. No. She was just like everybody else. A selfish bitch who only cared about herself.

It wasn’t like she was worried. She sure as hell wasn’t getting attached to the dumbass. She just thought he was stupid. It wouldn’t have made any difference to her if Shepard left Grunt to the Thresher Maw. The hold would be a hell of a lot quieter. Maybe then people would leave her the fuck alone.  

Didn’t fucking mean anything that they survived. Now that whatever the hell they wanted to do on this dump was over, she couldn’t wait to leave. Hopefully soon. So when Grunt came over to her with a bandaged hand and a stupid grin on his face, she couldn’t stop herself from rolling her eyes.

“Some guys from my clan asked me to shoot pyjaks with them,” he said. Grunt sounded unmistakably proud about that. “Do you want to come?”

“Fine,” she said, jumping off of the wall and shoving her hands in her pockets. Wasn’t like she was doing anything else.

She followed him over to a turret by the food stores. A young Krogan loaded it while another called out the positions and numbers of pyjaks. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all. She did like destruction and mayhem.

The Krogan looked at them. Grunt waved and pointed to her.  “This is my friend Jack.” She almost corrected him, but he sounded so proud of this that she let him have it.

**_X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X_ **

They’d need to leave soon. By her estimate, they’d already spent too much time in Council space, but she wanted to give Grunt a little more time to get to know his new clan. Besides, she had business to settle before they left.

“So,” she said, leaning back on a pile of rubble next to the throne. “You’ll accept Grunt as a full member of Clan Urdnot.”

“After what he did today, I’d be stupid not to,” Wrex replied, reading over a report from his scouts. Krogan were leaving clan Weyrlok in droves now that their leadership was shattered. Wrex said he’d take in anybody who was loyal to Urdnot, but there was still resentment.  “Good kid. Takes after you.”

She would take that as a compliment.

“Heard you were the last person to kill it,” she said, tucking a strand of still damp hair behind her ear.  The shower worked wonders settling her nerves.

“Biotic charge, straight through the skull,” he said, a nostalgic grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “No redundant nervous system.” His omni-tool pinged and he gave it an annoyed look. “My cousin’s great niece wants to send you a breeding request.”

“I’m flattered,” she said.  

“I tried telling her you’re an alien, but she likes the thing you do with the knives.”

“Would she be too disappointed if I respectfully declined?” she said.

“Probably not. There’s lots of knives in the female camp,” he said. “So aside from collecting smartasses, what have you been up to?”

“Nothing as interesting as uniting Tuchanka,” she said. “You’re going to have to tell me more about that.” She’d missed a lot in two years. Even with over a month to catch up, there were still gaps.

Wrex started to tell her about how he got started and for a while, she just listened. It was nice, reminiscing like this, but off on the other side of the camp, Grunt and Jack were doing something with a group of other young Krogan involving artillery and the food stores. It would probably be a good idea to put an end to that before anything happened that necessitated paying for repairs. 

“I have another favor to ask you Wrex,” she said, suddenly all business again.

“You’ve been asking a lot of those,” Wrex said, narrowing his eyes at her.

“Don’t worry, my credit’s good,” she said, flashing him a sharp grin. “Within the next few days, you’re likely going to be contacted by someone from the Council or the Alliance.”

She would need them to catch up to her soon. They had something of hers and she wanted it back. It wasn’t really stealing if it was your own work and the Alliance had likely let her progress on the Nepheron virus stagnate while she was dead. She needed to get into their databases to get it back. Just not yet. “I need you to tell them I was never here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So work got crazy, I didn’t have much time to write and TBCH this chapter did not want to cooperate, so yeah, better done and clumsy than perfect. I’m hoping the next one is quicker, but we’ll see.


	22. All Vintage Misery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jack takes a trip down memory lane.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to get up. I hurt my arm pretty severely in an accident, then I lost almost the entire chapter I was supposed to post due to an issue with autosave, so I’m skipping it. Maybe at some point in the future, I’ll go back and add it in, but for now it’s gone. On another note, I’ve been working on this for over a year now. So yeah. Happy slightly belated one year anniversary to me!

Sleek, hot drops fell from tangled mats of vines growing through broken skylights onto shoots and stems poking through cracked concrete. Gnarled roots tore through the floor, trying to drag the Teltin facility back down into the jungle. Damp leaves lining shallow puddles squelched underfoot, the scent of their decay growing with every step. Distant howls of jungle creatures echoed like demented laughter through crumbling walls.

Shepard stopped to flick leaf slime from the toe of her boot with a neat, elegant kick. Forbid Miss Perfect get her feet dirty. Water and something nasty had long since soaked into her own shoes. The steady deluge outside might have helped to wash the grime away, if not for the plants growing to fill in the gaps in the roof.

Fucking shithole planet never changed.

She didn’t even think they had the right ruin. Too small to be Teltin. Its halls had been cavernous and endless. When she escaped, it felt like she ran for days before she even got outside. This place looked like an office building. If not for the jungle, it would be sickeningly normal. Wouldn’t fucking surprise her if Cerberus had a couple labs here. She wanted to tell Shepard that her scanner was busted. Could almost imagine the look on her face when she told her that she fucked up. Wasted their fucking time.

But that place was burned into her brain. Couldn’t forget the way back if she tried. And _fuck_ she tried. She didn’t feel sorry for herself though. Wasn’t some pathetic little kid cowering under a desk anymore. She was back, she was angry, and she was going to blow this place away.

Shepard paused again. Knelt down, mindless of the black water soaking into her pants, and examined a broken vine. No. Not broken. Cut. Too clean to come from animals’ teeth. More evidence that this place wasn’t as abandoned as it looked.

The helipad was too clear when they landed. Pragia was crawling with mercs. Spent days running from them after she escaped. Probably wasn’t the only ruin they used as a base.

“Proceed slowly,” Shepard ordered. She stood slowly, her intense gaze fixed the door on the other end of the lobby. “No contact until we know what we’re dealing with.”

Jack rolled her eyes. Like she couldn’t handle herself. Still, she followed. The bitch was fucking famous for surviving shit. Follow her, do what she does, and rip her apart if – no, not if, when- she tried to throw her to the wolves.

She didn’t let her get too far ahead. Even when she wasn’t cloaked, she had a talent for disappearing. Small trees and bushes fought for meager sunlight, choking the halls. Made the facility feel smaller than it was. This hall was huge when she first came barreling through it.

She remembered bullets slipping off her barrier, bones crunching beneath her hands. One guard begging for his life at the end. Her fist driving through his chest, shards of bone embedded in her knuckles. On too much of the good stuff to notice her own pain. She was finally free. That was all that mattered.

Leaves crunched underfoot. Her shirt snagged on thorns as she followed Shepard through the underbrush and into a courtyard. They stuck to thick growth at the edges and on the other side, a pair of Vorcha stood guard at the end of the hall. Her hand hovered over her pistol, wanted to kill them.

They were between her and her cell. She should kill them. She’d done it before. If she could fight through a legion of guards and the other kids when she was little, she could rip through them without breaking a sweat now.

She was so focused on the Vorcha, she lost track of Shepard. A flash of fuchsia light arched between them and they fell stunned before they could sound the alarm. One slipped, cracked his head on a barricade below.

She hadn’t been looking before, but she knew this place. Concrete barriers arranged in a large oval. Old blood spatter on the edges. She used to love this. She got to leave her cell, feel the warm, soft release of narcotics when she killed her opponent, saw her first sunlight through the skylight.

Shepard slipped down from the catwalk, wiped blood from her knife. Carefully positioned herself so that Jack couldn’t see what was coming down the hall.

“Sick fucks used to watch me fight,” she said, kicking one of the barriers. “Take me out here and pit me against the other kids.”

“And they studied this?” Like getting something out of this could justify it. 

“The hell if I know,” she spat. “Maybe it was just how they got their kicks. I was a kid, pumped up on drugs and thrown around a lab. Didn’t ask them, “Hey, how’s the shit you’re doing to me going to help humanity?”

“It doesn’t.” Jack didn’t expect the bite in her words. Her back straightened and for a moment, Jack thought she saw why people got all worked up about Commander Shepard. “What they did was wrong.”  

“I never understood anything that happened here,” she said. Suddenly the courtyard felt very big again and she snarled. She wasn’t that scared kid anymore.

“We need to move on,” Shepard said. “The mercs are going to call to check in with the guards eventually and my Vorcha impression is rusty. Dead people are good at tipping security off like that.”

They avoided the next guards by taking a detour into the labs. She flinched away from the chairs with straps and restraints. She hated everything about this. She was conscious for a lot of it. Impossibly long needles in her spine. Some kind of drug that gave her headaches, but left her stronger than ever. Awake and crying when they tinkered with her implant.

They moved on quickly, the next room was some sort of weird lab. Tables laid out in neat, orderly rows, broken up by tangles of roots and branches. Half a wall taken up by weird, square cabinets. Some of the doors hung open, revealing some sort of sliding mat thing. Surgical tools still scattered on the floor. Some rat looking thing ran across the floor and disappeared into the bracken.

“This is a morgue,” Shepard said, running her fingers along a cabinet door. She looked pointedly at where the animal ran into the underbrush.

Something bigger than the rat hoarded a small pile of picked clean bones in a den. A long bone poked out of a tangle of branches, gnaw marks from scavengers prominent on the end. A small skull grinned at her from under a lab bench.

The fuck did they need a morgue for? She had it worse than the other kids and she survived. Whatever. It didn’t matter. If it was a morgue, it wouldn’t be soon.

Shepard was soon distracted by a security terminal at the other end. Jack figured she was trying to disable security, but she gave an uncharacteristic irritated snarl when instead, it just played recordings.

She leaned against the wall and ignored it. If Shepard wanted to waste her time hanging around this hell hole, let her. She just wanted to torch the place.

“All subjects beside Zero are expendable.” She knew that voice. Heard it in her nightmares. One of the scientists.

“That’s not how it happened,” she said. They saved the worst of it for her. The other kids, they had it easy. She went through so much and she made it out alive.

“…Death in all subjects, so we’ll not try that on Zero,” the voice droned on. She came over to Shepard.

“They weren’t experimenting on the other kids for my safety,” she snarled. It didn’t make sense. If they cared about her, they wouldn’t have shut her in a cell, let her scream until her she lost her voice at kids who never did anything for her.

“It’s not your fault,” Shepard said. Her too bright eyes were fixed on the screen while she worked. Her face was a well put together blank. “You were a child, you couldn’t control what they did, to you or to others. No sense feeling guilty for living.”

“You don’t get it!” she said. “I survived this because I was tougher than everyone else! That’s who I am!”

“And now you’re out,” she said, trying to open another file. “So you move on. It’s the past. It doesn’t own you.” Jack didn’t expect her to step away from the console and look her in the eye. Didn’t expect the steel in her tongue or the cold fire in her eyes.  “They don’t own you.”

“If you’re gonna give me another speech about how I don’t have to be a monster then…”

“It’s all fallen to pieces, the subjects are rampaging and Zero is loose. We’re shutting Teltin down…We’ll infiltrate, piggyback onto the Alliance’s Ascension Program…” A cold pit opened up in Jack’s stomach.

“Shepard, they started up somewhere else!” she said. For a moment, she wondered why the hell she said that. Shepard didn’t care. She was one of them. She shouldn’t trust her.

Shepard didn’t look at her, but her posture was lose, perfectly relaxed. By now, Jack knew better.

“The Ascension Program is a school for biotic kids,” she explained. Polite, friendly, conversational.  “Jack.” Sudden, cold and clear, like dunking her head in ice water. “How old are you?”

“Don’t know, time gets funny when you’re in a cell,” she said, rubbing the back of her neck. Shepard’s eyes narrowed for a second, but found no satisfaction in her answer. Still, she could see the gears turning in her head, trying to puzzle something out.

“When you escaped, you killed them.” It didn’t sound like question.

“Yeah.” Her guards slipped up for a moment and she tore through them like a cannonball. “Why?”

“I trust the Alliance as much as I trust Cerberus,” she said. “Their schools are only as good as their people.”  

Shepard took a drive out of the console. She picked up the skull and turned it over in her hands a few times, before setting it down again and nudging it with her toe deep into the brush.  Time to move on.

**_X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X_ **

“Come out,” Shepard said. She sounded sweet and gentle and if Jack didn’t know better, she’d be reassured by her voice. “I know you’re here.”

A man stepped out from behind a crate. Jack got the nagging feeling like she knew him from somewhere. Shepard let Jack lead the way to her cell, but once the man came out of hiding, she cut between them in an almost casual way.   

He was short, with close cropped dark hair. Probably about her age. He didn’t walk towards them so much as he twitched, as if expecting to be hit with every step he took. Not like a man who hired a Krogan mercenary and managed to keep him here for weeks. He had beady eyes that kept flicking to her, then away. Didn’t help with her déjà vu.  

“You must be Aresh,” Shepard said. That name sounded so familiar, maybe someone she robbed or something. Couldn’t be that uncommon a name. “Don’t worry.” She showed open hands, but that didn’t mean anything. Jack fought alongside her on Haestrom. Shepard was a scrappy bitch and she fought dirty. “I’m not here to hurt you.”

“I know you,” he said, stopping mid-flinch. He wrung a hand around a wrist and pointed an accusing finger in their direction.

“I’m Shep…”

“Not you.” He waved a dismissive hand at her. “I’d know you anywhere Subject Zero.”

Her blood ran cold and she drew her pistol. Nobody had called her that for years.

“Who the fuck are…” She pushed past Shepard.

“You’re breaking into my home.” His eyes settled on her, suddenly too steady and intense. “So many years passed and I thought I was the only survivor…”

No. No. She killed them. All of them.

His demeanor became steadier the closer he got. His back straightened and he looked not at her, but through her.

“I could never forget you.” It was simple, matter of fact. “We all knew your face Jack. They inflicted horrors on us so their experiments wouldn’t kill you. You were the question, and I’m still looking for the answer.”

A faint glow began at his fingertips and her grip tightened around the trigger. She half expected another shock when she didn’t fire.

“I tried to forget, but this place, it doesn’t forget you,” he said. “That’s why I came back. I’m rebuilding and I’m going to find out what they knew. I’m going to unlock true biotic…”

She lunged, driving her knee into his gut and knocking him to the floor. His head cracked against the concrete, but he kept looking at her with his too clear eyes as she leveled her pistol at his head. Her hands glowed and energy crackled across her body as she pinned him to the ground.

“I wanted a hole in the ground,” she snarled. “You want to justify it!”

“I’m going to restart the Teltin facility and it will be beautiful,” he said once he regained his senses. He didn’t even try to resist. “They did such horrible things to us, they must have had good reasons.”

“There’s no reason good enough!” she screamed. “You lived it!”

White hot anger built in her and her eyes stung. Bloody hands banging on a window, screaming to be heard. The cold, damp chill in the air faded away under her pulse. Everything faded until there was nothing in the world but her and this fucker. Asshole. Victim. Perpetrator. Survivor. Whatever the hell he was.

“And it was all for you,” he said. There was something on his face. She couldn’t name it. Pride? Resentment? Admiration? Some horrible mixture of things she didn’t want to think about. “They were taking us to the labs. Most of the people who went in, they didn’t come back out, so we all attacked at once. They were going to slaughter us, but then you got loose. Then the next thing I knew, everyone was dead and you were gone.”

“I stopped it!” she said. Rain leaked from the ceiling onto his face. “All of it! You had it bad too, but this is messed up! We were kids! They stole us, starved us, beat us…We didn’t deserve this! Nobody deserves this!”

“Everything we went through had to have been worth something!” he spat. He got his hand under him, tried to leverage himself back up. Energy rolled off her in a wave and knocked him back to the ground.

“No it wasn’t! I’m not going to let you put more kids through this bullshit,” she said.

“It _has_ to be,” he said. But this time, he sounded desperate. Reaching out for something that he couldn’t quite grasp. He didn’t plead for his life like the guards did. This would be easier if he did. It should have been easy anyway. Like flicking an on-off switch.

She looked away for a moment, caught Shepard waiting by the door out of the corner of her eye.

“Don’t look at me Jack,” she said. “It’s not my decision.”  

“I…” No. She had it bad, but now she knew what it was really like for everybody else. Couldn’t take the chance that he’d keep up the experiments. A whole new generation of kids tortured for some crazy science fair exhibit. She leveled her gun at the back of his head.

But her finger shook on the trigger. She’d never hesitated before. Safer not to. You let someone live, it’s only going to come back to bite you in the ass.

“Jack,” Shepard said, soft and calm. She wanted to trust her. She wanted that so badly. Shepard had been decent to her, but she was with Cerberus. She left people to die. She wasn’t going to get fucked like that. Wasn’t going to let herself get fucked like that. Jack wasn’t that stupid.

 “You left. He’s still here,” Shepard said. She didn’t let her guard down. If she did that whatever happened as her own fucking fault. “Your past does not control you. You are not subject zero. If you’re going to kill him, do it because it’s your choice.”  

Her grip tightened. Her knuckles strained white against her skin, threatening to rip through. Aresh didn’t flinch. Didn’t resist. He knew subject zero. Knew that she wasn’t supposed to hesitate. He knew he was going to die and there wasn’t anything he could do about it.

She knew now that she wouldn’t have gotten out of here without them. The other kids. More of them should have survived. She was fucked, but at least she had a chance to grow up. It was more than any of the other kids got.

Killing him wouldn’t fix her. It would stop him from even thinking of restarting this hell, but she got a chance to leave it. He deserved the same.

She stepped back, got to her feet, and pointed to the door.

“Get out of here,” she snarled. He looked at her sideways, as if expecting a trick. “Go!” Jack holstered her pistol and watched him run. “He’s not worth chasing.” She flicked her hand at his retreating back. “None of this is.”

“I have no idea where those mercs came from,” Shepard said, looming in the door as they watched Aresh run. “They were definitely Bloodpack. Probably thought they could get some salvage out of this place.”

Jack nodded. Maybe Shepard wasn’t just another Cerberus operative.

“Do you want to be alone?” Shepard asked. The woman waited patiently and Jack remembered all the times Shepard came down into the hold, how every time she asked if it was alright to stay and her quiet, unobtrusive company when Jack said she could. Fuck, she’d started to actually like Shepard sitting at the other end of the hold with her datapad. Then she’d leave without another word when she said no or when she realized that she was close to overstaying her welcome.

“Stay, go, whatever,” she said. Shepard would leave while she set the bomb if she told her to. Jack didn’t want her to go, but she didn’t want to admit that she wanted her to stay. She let people get close before and they always hurt her.

“What do you want Jack?” Nobody had asked her that in a long goddamn time. Shepard kept laying out choices for her. Only had to kill that fucker if she wanted to. And she wanted to. She really fucking wanted to. But she didn’t have to. Didn’t have to be what they made her.

“Sure, stay.” Something warm dripped from the leaking ceiling and ran down off her nose.

Shepard moved towards her with soft, tapping footsteps. Just enough so she knew where she was.  

“May I?” Shepard said, her hand hovering over her shoulder.

Jack nodded. Hadn’t realized she was shaking until Shepard laid a steady, grounding pressure on her shoulder. Her thumb rubbed slow, reassuring circles on her back and she murmured that it was okay. For once, Jack believed her. She’d been alone for so long, only relied on herself for so long, she’d nearly forgotten what it felt like to trust another person.

Her feet were heavy as she took in the room one last time.

If she wanted to, she could cross it in less than three strides. Funny how it seemed so big before. Her whole world. The space under her desk a refuge from the rest of it. If she looked, she could find clumsy drawings scratched into the wood with her fingernails. Didn’t let her have pencils or pens. Probably thought she’d use them to damage the merchandise.

She led Shepard through the room, showed her everything, and the stories came out like a cascade. How she screamed for one of the other kids to notice her, even if it was just for a second, and they never did. She told Shepard that her best friend was a fucking desk. How she sometimes woke up and thought that that she was back in her cot until she caught the soft glow of the engines and heard Grunt stomping around up above.

Through all of it, Shepard stayed and Jack was grateful.

**_X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X_ **

Mira Shepard patted her hair down with a too soft and fresh smelling towel. A hot shower removed the worst of the grime, but she couldn’t help but feel a little dirty.

Today, as successful as it was, was a reminder of the kind of people she was working for. The Illusive Man liked control to much not to know what was going on.  

She submitted her report to Lawson as soon as she finished. She made sure to mention the morgue. Not so much as to draw attention to it or as to sound accusatory, but enough so that she had to notice. She drew comparisons between the Teltin facility and the other rogue sites she’d previously shut down. Her report said nothing of Aresh or the skull she tucked into the brush.

She said nothing about how she convinced Jack to dial back the explosion to give Aresh time to escape. The morgue would be in shambles, but not totally ruined.

She’d get the rest of her paperwork done with, then check in with Jack. She was upset, but for the moment needed her space to sort things out.

She sat down at her desk and checked her emails. Nothing new in the last twenty minutes. Her fingers hovered over the touch pad, thinking about trying to recover one she deleted without reading. She thought better of it because she didn’t have time for useless sentiment.

However, there was a notification for a missed voice call from Zaeed from a three minutes ago.

“Shepard,” Zaeed snapped. “Do we have the purple energy drink?” Given the number of biotics in her crew, she bought variety packs on account of the fact that they were cheaper. So far, nobody had expressed a preference. At least, not to her.

“Wouldn’t this be a question better directed at…”

“Please. Gardener has no real authority and everybody knows it,” he said.

“Additional supplies are in the hold,” she said, making a note to order more when they were docked next. “Why do you…”

“That’s the one Jack likes,” he said. “I made Grunt bring her a ration bar like you asked.”

“How’s she look?” Shepard asked.

“Tired, but she’ll live,” he replied. Good. What she asked for today couldn’t have been easy for Jack. “She’s a tough kid. Grunt’s staying with her for company.”  

“I’ll see what I can do about the juice,” she said. She cut the call and quickly combed her hair out as neatly as she could. Near as she could tell, purple was ostensibly an approximation of grape. A quick survey of the mess revealed one last bottle at the back of a cabinet.

The elevator railing was still dented where she crushed it. She would mention it to Tali later. Zaeed was already waiting for her she stepped off in engineering.

“How’s…” she started.

“You worry too much,” he said, rolling his eye. As if he hadn’t asked her to try to find the juice that Jack liked rather than just giving her whatever was available. “Told you, she’s fine.”

Regardless, he followed her down the stairs. She paused at the base of the steps. Jack and Grunt were sitting next to each other on one of the crates.

“You can punch me if you want,” Grunt offered. Jack’s fist clenched at her knee. “It makes you feel better and it doesn’t hurt, like being hit by a flea.” They sat in silence for a time and Shepard thought better of intruding for the time being. Jack stared at the floor and Grunt nudged her with his elbow.

She gently shoved him back and gave him a little smile. “Big dumb turtle.”


	23. On the Edge of the Devil's Backbone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kaidan Alenko contacts old friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I am really sorry this took me so long to update. I had the GRE subject tests the other week and a lot of other grad school things to work on and I kind of lost track of this chapter in the chaos. Thanks to everybody for being patient, I hope that I can do better in the future.

"Look Wrex," Kaidan said, pinching the bridge of his nose. He was far beyond caring that this was a vid call. The Krogan scowled back at him from the screen "You expect me to believe there was a ship in orbit around Tuchanka for over two days and you didn't notice."

"No. I'm telling you to listen when I tell you there wasn't a ship," he said, crossing his arms. The old Krogan narrowed his eyes and his plates furrowed.

It was starting to feel like everyone knew about Shepard, except for him. First Garrus and Anderson, now Wrex. He already knew that when the call ended, he'd be left asking himself what he'd done wrong.

"Every report I've seen from your system says differently," he said. Ever since Horizon, he'd been jumping between Alliance cruisers with excuse missions to beat his head against a wall chasing dead ends. Maybe he was wasting his time. If Shepard didn't want to be found, she wouldn't be.

Anderson stonewalled him. He didn't know how to make the councilor understand that she wasn't the woman they thought she was. Maybe she'd never been that person at all. He talked to a repulsive C-Sec captain about a woman who passed through about the same time. Still nothing.

Finally, he found a lead in the Krogan DMZ and managed to hitch a ride on the Hadley to check it out. There was no mistaking the ship on the scans. It looked too much like the Normandy's ghost to forget it.

He tried again to call Joker earlier to tell him that he could stop blaming himself for her death. The radio silence was deafening. He'd nearly dropped his mission just to try to figure out what happened. The last time he saw Joker was a little over a year ago, still not quite accepting that there was no way the Alliance would let him fly again.

She'd done that to him. All of them. Joker vanished. Liara stopped talking to anyone. He tried to call her over the last few years. Every time, she refused to say a word to him.

So after leaving Horizon, he'd given himself one night to mourn her all over again and sent her a message in the vain hope that maybe, maybe, it would make a difference. She hadn't responded, but it didn't come back with, "this email does not exist," either. He tried not to read too much into that.

When Shepard got onto Cerberus' trail, she'd focused on it to the point where Saren almost didn't matter to her. And he found her on Horizon. She could have run and vanished all over again. Instead, she let him see her. She talked to him. Let him touch her. There had to be more to the situation. So in spite of everything, he chased after her.

Whatever feelings he had for her didn't matter. The job was more important. Shepard was the best lead they had on Cerberus in two years and they couldn't afford to waste it.

"Wrex," he said, suddenly mindful of the empty office. Captain Lewis had a cow bobblehead by her terminal, said it was from her niece. It nodded at him. Couldn't tell if it was telling him to go ahead or agreeing that what he was about to do was so, so stupid. "How long have you known?"

The old Krogan snarled. He halfway expected him cut the call right there.

"Look, I don't know anything about Shepard," Wrex said, something in his old, weathered face softened for a second. "But if you want information…" He tubbed his chin. "…Liara's set up on Illium as an information broker. I'd pick her brain."

X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X

Garrus sat back on the rail and watched as Tali set the panel back into place. She swept away the small stack of listening devices she'd pulled out of the wiring. She knew that the ones down in engineering were only for show – too many interfering frequencies from the drive core- but these were different.

Tali sat back and closed her eyes, committing every inch of the wiring to memory. If she wanted to strike back at Cerberus, she would need every bit of help she could get. She already knew the weak spot in the armor. Jacob knew about it too and kept recommending modifications to fix it. It gave her an excuse to poke around. Like he wanted to make her job easy for her.

"Okay," she said. She stuck the screwdriver back into her tool belt. "Try the calibration sequence again."

"Third time's the charm right?" He leaned over to the screen, even though he had to stretch to reach.

"Why don't you just get off the rail?" she said.

"I can reach from here," he replied.

"Barely." She was grateful for the mask as it meant she could roll her eyes. "I can't believe this is still a problem."

She'd initially thought that rerouting more power to the stabilizers would sort the problem out. They'd done something similar on the Mako, to great effect, to improve targeting on uneven ground. So far, they hadn't done quite so well.

"Cerberus traded accuracy and stability for firepower," he said, typing away. He watched the targeting optimization go along and hummed a couple bars from the Fleet and Flotilla soundtrack. "Come on! I'm not even done with the opening sequence and it's already drifting."

"How?" she asked. She leapt to her feet and bolted to the screen, nearly knocking him over. "Every time I thought I fixed…"

"I know," he said. "Spirits, remember what the Normandy could do? If the battle of the Citadel happened all over again, I wouldn't trust it to make…"

Garrus chittered thoughtfully. He rubbed at his scars, right along where his colony markings would have been. Garrus didn't want to talk about how he got them, but she picked up enough from ship gossip. Doctor Chakwas did a remarkable job of reconstructing his face after what happened, but even she couldn't cover it up entirely.

His jaw hung crooked, one mandible much lower than the other and at an uncanny angle. Even so, under different circumstances, she might have found the effect ruggedly handsome.

"Maybe…" he murmured. "Before I left C-Sec, I heard about research into Sovereign's weaponry. When we refuel, I can call up some old contacts and check up on that. Maybe it'll give me some inspiration."

"Maybe it's not a hardware problem," she said, thinking not for the first time of the locked door behind the medbay. She caught Shepard staring at it more than once. Even if Shepard was with Cerberus, a locked door was too much temptation.

"Why would Cerberus sabotage their own software?"

"Why would they try to make their own husks?" she said.

"I asked Jacob about those sites," he said, bending down to pick up one of the deactivated bugs. "I don't think he believed it when he said that they're rogue cells."

"That's what you want to hear," she said. She didn't care how nice the crew acted, they still willingly signed up with an organization that tried to destroy the migrant fleet.

"When I was a detective, I was good at telling when suspects were holding back," he replied. Was it just her or did he sound like he wasn't so sure of that? Although with the slight growl, she thought that maybe he was just angry.

He sounded angry a lot now. She didn't quite know how to feel about that. When she lost contact with him, he'd been frustrated with problems in C-Sec, but this felt more personal.

"He's Cerberus," she said. She couldn't help but feel a little insulted that he was so quick to trust real terrorists, but it took so long for him to warm up to her. "He's trying to trick you. It's what they do. Don't tell me you think they're doing the right thing."

"I…" he said. He folded his forearms across his knees and leaned forwards, hanging his head. "I'm not here for them Tali. I'm here for the colonists. And for Shepard."

"I know," she said, sighing and rubbing her forearms. The longer she spent on the ship, the guiltier she felt about what she was planning. These were her friends. "Sorry, just thinking about the mission."

"Yeah, couldn't have been easy to leave your people like this," he said. "It means a lot to Shepard that you're here." She looked back to the panel and thought again about the wiring. Thought about following it back through the pipes. Thought about all the people Cerberus hurt. "And to me too."

"Thank you," she said, slowly getting back to her feet. "You want to try the calibration again?"

"I'll check the gyroscopes," he said, perking up a little and hopping down off the rail. Garrus scratched at his carapace and looked over her shoulder. "I never said this before, but thanks for letting me borrow your tools. Gabby and Ken's were made for too many fingers."

"I know! Why do humans need so many?" she asked. She liked humans, but they had such weird hands.

"Maybe that's why they use base ten…"

X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X

Neon light from the skyscraper across the street cast a fuchsia glow across Liara's office. It glittered on the glass top of her desk like gemstones. Illium was a beautiful place at night. She'd taken a trip out of Nos Astra to research a lead six months ago. Out at sea with an endless field of stars above her and Nos Astra shining in the distance, it was so peaceful she almost forgot that she was chasing one of the Shadow Broker's smugglers.

She'd always wanted to go back to the University when she was finished with her work. They'd laughed out her theories and papers about the Reapers after Shepard died, but she'd made them listen once before. She could do it again. But there were days when the thought of going back to a stuffy post-doc office and leading discussion groups and writing syllabuses seemed stifling.

The rush of finding a new lead, knowing that every day she was getting closer and closer to the Shadow Broker. The constant excitement and variety of the city was so different from the quiet of Thessia or the isolation of her digs. As much as morning traffic stressed her out, there was a part of her that liked it. Maybe she'd find an apartment on Illium. Keep up her practice as an information broker.

Her encounter with Shepard rattled her, but she kept going. She couldn't afford to let it affect her work. Just because now, the armor and dog tags she'd kept as mementos made her feel foolish, it didn't mean she was herself a fool. The next time she went back to her apartment, she'd package them up and throw them away, historical significance be damned. Besides, she suspected the woman she'd brought back would think of them as a costume.

She picked up her datapad and scrolled through her leads. She'd hired a hacker to bring her data on someone she'd called the Observer. Nyxeris dug through their data and found some viable leads for her.

Really, she didn't know what she'd done to deserve such a loyal assistant. Over the last few years, she'd done so much for her. Nyxeris stayed through the long nights she worked after the incident with Shepard. Even when Liara tried to send her home, Nyxeris said that so long as she was working, she was too.

While she looked over the fragments of documents, something about them seemed off. She had several viable leads, but none of them seemed to fit the data. She couldn't quite put a finger on it yet, but given a little more time and a few cups of strong tea, she'd figure it out. She could do it. Just like she'd had to fight for funding for research projects on a decidedly unglamorous long dead species.

Her thesis advisor told her to work on a more defensible project. If she wanted to do a project on Protheans on the side, go for it, but if she wanted funding she couldn't make it her life's work. If she did that, she would have worked on the same over dug sites on Thessia, making the same arguments on Asari civilizations. Personally, she thought she'd done alright for herself working on high risk, no reward research.

If she could do that, if she could tell her mother that she was so wrong about Saren, she could do any of this. It would just take time.

She was so wrapped up in the Turian lead, she didn't notice the incoming call light on her desk until Nyxeris paged her.

"You have an incoming vid call from an Alliance commander," Nyxeris said.

The datapad clattered against the glass desk top. She brushed one hand over the other and told herself that she handled a lot of material for the System's Alliance. Besides, Shepard made it very clear whose side she was on. It wasn't as if anyone had forced her to work for Cerberus. And Shepard came back, she doubted she'd announce her presence or wait for her call to go through.

"Dr. T'Soni?" Nyxeris asked. Her voice had a note of concern to it. "Do you want me to tell them that you're unavailable? I can take a message for…"

"Thank you Nyxeris, but that will be unnecessary," she replied, tapping a manicured hand against the light.

She missed the dirt under her fingernails and their cracked, chipped edges. Her manicurist even managed to scrape away callouses from years of digging. The novelty of smooth, soft skin had worn off a long time ago.

The tension lifted from her shoulders the moment a familiar face filled the vid screen. "Hey."

"Kaidan," she said. A smile slowly spread across her face. Kaidan was always a reassuring presence. He sat with her in the lab after her first battle, letting her sort things out and giving advice on which human energy drink tasted the least like a hangover. "It's so good to see you!"

"Good to see you too," he said. She'd spent the last two years avoiding anyone from her old life, but after what happened, it was good to see someone she knew she could trust. "Nice office by the way, big step up from Thessia."

"I liked my closet," she said, only a little defensive. Sure, she had no windows, the radiator rattled and leaked, and when she had to lecture, students would always get lost trying to find it, but it was hers and she'd made it home.

"Bet it didn't have a nice desk plant," he said. If it was real, the small leafy plant on her desk never would have survived her old office.

"It's nano-fiber," she admitted. She'd had to have too many tense negotiations here to want to take a chance. "I have a lot of real ones back at home though."

"Still, it looks good," he replied.

"So you introduced yourself to my secretary as an Alliance commander, just to call to discuss my home gardening?" she said.

"Just wanted to catch up with some old friends," Kaidan said. "Wanted to see what you were up to."

"Well, as you can see, I've set up a bit of a practice for myself on Illium," she said. "Mostly independent business consulting."

"Never really thought you were the corporate type," he said.

"I'm not really," she said. "Trying to clear up some residual issues with my mother's holdings. As soon as I finish here I'll be on my way."

"Were you thinking about going back to the University?" He wore a now familiar expression. Kaidan wanted something from her, but didn't want just ask her.

"I'm still undecided," she said. "What have you been up to recently?"

"Not much," he said. A quick flash of tension in his jaw. Once, while playing cards, Joker explained the crew's tells to her. "Did a bit of teaching myself for a while. For the moment, I'm on the Hadley."

"Kaidan," she said. "As much as I appreciate the call, you didn't just call to catch up did you?"

"Look," he said, rubbing the back of his neck and averting his eyes. "I didn't want to come right out and say this, but the anniversary of Shepard's death was a few weeks ago and I know she meant a lot to you, so I wanted to see how you were doing."

Her heart raced, a river rushing ice through her veins. She could tell him. She should tell him. She should have done that two years ago, but he would have stopped her. Any of them would have stopped her. And she'd been so desperate to bring Mira back.

She cared about Mira too much to let her go. Mira was their best chance to stop the Reapers and she couldn't take the chance that his petty, shortsightedness would hurt their chances. It hurt to lie to her friends, it killed her to do it, but it was for a greater purpose. He wouldn't understand.

But that was before she knew Shepard.

She got up from her desk and stepped back. He knew Shepard was alive. Shepard said that they'd spoken. That he wanted nothing to do with her. Yet he acted as if Shepard was still scattered among wreckage on Alchera.

Shepard said that they'd spoken. She'd believed Shepard. Even when Shepard had lied about everything else.

If he didn't know, she couldn't tell him. Not now. He wouldn't understand and she'd lost too much already to risk losing another friend.

"Kaidan, that was a long time ago," she said. She sounded like her mother, cool and terse. "Now if you excuse me, I have business to attend to." She terminated the call and sank back into her chair. She ran a hand over her tentacles, trying to sooth herself.

She should turn back to the task at hand. Finding the Shadow Broker. Finding Feron. She could lose herself in her work. She started rereading the messages again. Something about the communique from the stock trader seemed off.

"Dr. T'Soni?"

Liara jerked her head up, startled. She hadn't noticed Nyxeris come in.

"Are you alright?" she asked, her hands folded behind her back. "What was that about?"

"It was nothing." She waved her secretary off. "Don't worry about me." She glanced back down at her datapad. Her brief conversation with Kaidan was a minor shock. Nothing more. She could lose herself looking for the Observer and forget all about that.

Nyxeris came around the desk. She didn't see the glow until it was almost too late. Her barriers flared and she jumped back.

"What are you…" she asked, barely dodging the lash.

"What we should have done a long time ago," Nyxeris said. Her desk's top cracked, sending shards of glass across her office. The fake plant clattered to the floor. Nyxeris leapt out of the way of the stasis field with the grace of a huntress.

"You've been working for the Shadow Broker this whole time!" The lance shattering her window was enough of a response.

Liara took cover behind an overturned chair, checked her pistol, and took inventory of what she knew. Which now, wasn't much. She pushed her barrier out until the protective bubble covered her hiding place. It shook and flickered with every blow, but for now, it held.

Nyxeris circled around, testing her barrier for weakness. She came closer and Liara waited. And she fed power to her barrier. She channeled as much kinetic energy from Nxyeris' bolts and lashes into the barrier's potential as she could. Even when she knew she couldn't take much more, she waited.

Then Nyxeris came too close. Liara leapt to her feet, the barrier detonating around her. Nyxeris flew back and the crunch of bone echoed through the office.

"Nyxeris," she said. Something dark and cold spread through her chest as she strode towards her would-be assassin. Biotic power leapt and strained at her fingertips like waves on a shore. "I'm going to give you one chance. Tell me what you know, or I will crush you like the heart of a dying…"

"Do you think you scare me?" Nyxeris laughed. "How many people have I heard you threaten?" The spy spat at her feet, spattering her shoes with blood. Shepard was an ass, but she gave one decent piece of advice. "How many of them are still alive because you were too path…"

Liara closed her fist. The singularity warped and twisted her body before she could finish. Bones cracked like rotten branches as her chest was crushed from the inside.

Liara stripped the omni-tool from her assassin's body. If Nyxeris wouldn't give up her employers, she would find them on her own. If she was cold, then so be it. She had no time to mourn a traitor.

It was time to take the fight to the Shadow Broker.


End file.
